It Only Hurts When I Laugh
by FraidyCat
Summary: Archie is back from the Buddy Series. That is your only clue. Ok, one more. I like to hurt people. Especially Charlie.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: It Only Hurts When I Laugh**

**Author: FraidyCat**

**Genre: Drama, Angst. Seasoned with Humor.**

**Time line: Any Time is Good For Me**

**Summary: Archie is back from the Buddy Series. That is your only hint. OK, one more. I like to hurt people. Especially Charlie.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em – but wanna cuddle 'em.**

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**A/N: Some time has elapsed. Maybe someday there will be a "prequel".**

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**Chapter 1**

Alan stood, looking down.

"Explain to me."

He waited. As if it would make a difference.

"Your brother is an FBI agent. Your wife is an FBI agent. So explain to me why, in the last few years, I have been in the hospital watching you so often."

His eyes lifted to a monitor, and noticed no change, so he looked down again.

"You are a teacher. The most strenuous physical thing you should do is stand for a two-hour lecture."

He crossed his arms.

"But no. No, you have to fall down the stairs and break your wrist. Hurt your back. A consulting job you did as a 25-year-old leads to your permanent spinal cord injury, kidnapping and wilderness adventure. As if that weren't enough, you regularly break your own heart. Or mine. Same thing."

His eyes narrowed.

"Do you understand that, yet? Your heart — my heart. They're the same thing. I know you don't have children, yet. Trust me, I know that. But I thought when you fell headlong for Archie and married her three months after you met, you would begin to get a clue. You would start to understand what it means to give another person permanent custody of your heart."

He heard the harshness of his own voice and stopped. Took a breath. He uncrossed his arms and let the fingers of one hand play in the wild mass of curls.

"I'm sorry. This isn't your fault. You're a teacher. All you did was go to school. It's just difficult, to stand here, and wait. Wait for you. Wait to hear from your brother, or your wife."

He suddenly smiled.

"Hell, son, it's still difficult to even say 'your wife' to you."

He crossed his arms again and sighed.

"Not that I think you made a mistake, or anything. A rash decision, quite unlike you … but Archimedes is a stunning and loving woman. And determined. I saw that the first time I met her. Saw the look in her eye when she watched you."

He smiled again.

"And she did watch you a lot. Still does. I'm hoping she always will. I'm hoping she'll always have that look in her eye when she does. You deserve to be loved like that. So does your brother. Maybe Archie has a friend for Don?"

He stood silently for a while, watching the monitors. He walked slowly to the head of the bed, sat in the chair there.

"Do you know where they are? I thought when Archie transferred to another team, after you were married, that she and Don wouldn't be assigned to another case together. I thought that was the entire point. This must be big enough to take two teams out of the office."

He felt himself growing angry.

"It's not fair. Nothing about this is fair. I know you've always worried about your brother as much as I have. Then you have to fall in love with another agent, so now you worry about your wife, as well. And I'm sure you don't understand why neither of them is here, right now. I don't either. They should be on different assignments so that at least one of them is here. There should be a way for me to contact them. There should be newspapers, wherever they are, televisions. How could they not know what happened at Cal Sci?"

Just as quickly, he deflated. He ran a hand over his son's brow.

"Never mind. I'm just cranky. An old, cranky man. Never mind. Don't listen to me. I'm sure they would both be here, if they at all could. They're probably on their way now. Remember, I said that little Archie has determination. And your brother … well, I'm proud of you boys. You've grown so close. It's what I always wanted to see. Your mother, too. I know she's happy about it. So just rest. Don't worry. They love you. They both love you. Just like I do, Little One. I don't mean to frighten you, upset you."

Alan heard his voice crack.

"It's just that I'm all alone, here. I'm lonely."

He touched the part of his son's face not covered by the respirator.

"Do you think you could come back to me?"

He leaned back in the chair, rubbed his face. He sat there until he felt a light touch on his shoulder. He looked up, surprised. He hadn't even heard the nurse come in.

She was gentle. "I'm sorry, Mr. Eppes. It's been half an hour."

"Already?" Standing up, he felt his bones ache.

She let her hand linger on his shoulder. "I'm afraid so. No change while you were here?"

He knew that they kept track of all that out at the nurse's station, and he appreciated her willingness to let him believe he could see signs, every now and then, that his son was coming back. Today, though … today, he was just too weary to play the game.

He shook his head. "I can come back, this evening?"

She smiled. "Another half hour. You should go home and get some rest before then, Mr. Eppes."

He nodded vaguely, took one last look, and wandered slowly toward the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Archie pressed her face into the space provided in the bottom of the table, and moaned. Loudly. "Ahhhh. Mmmmmfffff. Don. That feels incredible. Don't stop."

He continued massaging the knot he had found in her shoulder. "You were right, baby. This week is just what we needed."

As he dribbled more oil on her back he tried to look around the room without being obvious. Damned if he could detect any surveillance equipment. Had to be there somewhere.

"Uuuhhhhhh. Lover. That's the spot."

He ducked his head, hoping wherever the equipment was it didn't detect his smirk.

When this was over, he was going to kill his sister-in-law.

Then again, maybe he should just sneak in his own tape recorder. Give the tape to Charlie on his next birthday.

Through the mail. If he did it in person, then Charlie would kill him.

"I'm in heaven. Your hands … Don, sweetie. Maybe we should go back to our cottage."

Don slapped her hard on the rear. The towel muffled the sound, so whoever was watching wouldn't know how hard. She started and rose halfway up, but he pushed her back down. Damn, Archie wasn't wearing anything, and this was starting to get too weird, even for Don.

"Let's take a walk, first. It's so beautiful here, and it will be dark soon."

She got his message. "Mmm. Good idea. Why don't you go back to the cottage and get my sweater? I'll just take a quick shower and meet you outside in 10."

He gave her shoulder one final pat and leaned down to kiss the back of her head. "Right, baby. See you in 10."

Ten minutes later, they strolled hand-in-hand around the grounds of the spa, Archie leaning into Don a little. They stopped at the fountain in the main courtyard and stood there for a while. Finally, almost thirty minutes into their walk, they could no longer see any of the buildings, although paved walkways and benches went on forever.

They paused at one bench and Don kneeled to tie his shoe. He drew a device from his pocket and waved it under the bench, used his eyes and his hands to double-check. "It's clean," he said at last, as he stood and sat on the bench. He looked at Archie, still standing in front of him. "You're enjoying this way too much."

She giggled. "This is the most fun I've had outside of Disney World when I was 11. I am so glad I drew the short straw. I just hope David and Megan don't solve the case on us. I have just begun to make you squirm." She plopped next to him on the bench.

"I'm still not happy about being the short straw," grumbled Don. "I'm the senior agent. I should not be the short straw."

"Poor baby," she soothed. "David's taller. It was simple … geography."

Don smiled. "Seriously. I hope they had a more productive couple of days than we did. I'm starting to wonder if we got a bad tip."

"Reliable informant," noted Archie. "But you're right. I'm just not seeing it, yet." She shivered and drew her sweater tighter around her shoulders. "I hope they get here soon." Her voice took on a wistfulness. "I wish I could call Charlie."

Don bumped her with his shoulder. "Come on, newlywed. You've only been away from him for three days."

She pouted. "I know. But I couldn't even say 'good-bye'. This case just came out of nowhere."

"Especially for you," Don acquiesced, "since you're on Reynolds' team now. But we needed two couples — it was Merrick's call."

"I know." She was still pouting.

"At least you left voice mail on his cell. He knows you're on a case. It's not like his wife of two months just took a hike."

Archie sat silently.

"Arch? You left him voice mail, right?"

She shivered again. Her voice was now subdued. "Yes, of course. But …"

He bumped her shoulder again. "But what, sis?"

She smiled at the word, then quickly frowned. "I don't know. For the last couple of days, I just keep feeling like something is wrong. I just want to talk to him, hear his voice. It's the only way I'll believe he's all right."

Don didn't tell her that a similar sense of dread had plagued him. Instead, he tried to lighten the mood. "It's because we're used to instant communication. Being cut off from our cells is having physical ramifications."

She shrugged. "I guess." She sighed a little, looking into the distance. "Is that David and Megan?"

Don followed her pointing finger. "I think so."

She pushed a little closer to him. He wasn't sure if it was for warmth, or comfort. "I am having a good time embarrassing you," she said, "but I've decided I'll be okay with it if they've solved the case. I really want to go home."

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"So that's it," Megan wound down. "The spa's former accountant said t his place was going under one second, continuously rolling in 'donations' from wealthy guests the next. She suspects some form of blackmail. Most of those former guests won't talk to us. Several aren't even couples, anymore, and one or both of them is out of the country. The few who even let us in the door were terrified. Holding back. So Merrick decided to send in a couple of teams undercover. The ex-accountant helped set up our profiles when we came in here. You two," she looked at Don and Archie, "are the Martins. New money. Archie won a lottery about six months ago, married Don about three months ago."

"I'm sure you have that backwards," interjected Don. "Marrying me was winning the lottery."

Megan rolled her eyes and continued. "David and I are old money. The Anderson-Sandovals." She grinned at David. "My Daddy invented something, David's grandfather came over from Cuba with half the country in this back pocket. We got it going on from both sides."

"We knew all that coming in," pointed out Don. "You guys got here the day before we did. Anybody try anything, yet?"

Megan shook her head. "It all seems very professional and upscale, to me. We're only booked for a week. If it's going to happen, it needs to happen soon."

"Megan. Have you and David taken the class in giving a massage to your partner? Don seems especially talented."

Archie gasped when Don slugged her, and Megan and David laughed.

"I'm sure that's some sort of violation," Archie pouted.

"Can't be," answered Don. "You're not on my team anymore. Besides, my hand slipped."

Archie grinned. "Seriously. This has brought up a question. Do you think I could transfer back?"

Don exchanged glances with Megan and David, then looked back at Archie. "Arch, you know we all work great together, you really clicked with this team. We miss you."

"But?"

"But Charlie. We're related now. I'm not sure I could be effective as a team leader if you were part of the team."

"But we're in the same office anyway. We still work together, some. And Charlie consults with Reynolds, sometimes." She saw the look on Don's face. "All right. Reynolds won't let him help unless Merrick orders him to; he's an ass. That's my point. I don't feel as safe on his team. He knows I'm married to Charlie, and I think he's extended his dislike of my husband to me."

Megan frowned. "That's a problem. An Agent has to feel like her team has her back. I'm with Don, though, I don't think it would be wise for you two to work together. Or fair, to Charlie and Alan — to have you both at risk on the same cases?"

David suddenly spoke up. "Didn't you tell me at lunch last week that there is an alternative? Have you thought more about that?"

Archie explained to Don and Megan. "The Secret Service has made an offer. I would be part of the Governor's protection detail."

"But he's based in Sacramento."

Archie smiled. "Don't worry Don, I wouldn't ask Charlie to move. I would become part of a 4-3 rotation, and commute. Four days down there, or traveling with the Governor — three here … it's part of what makes the offer attractive. That, and the idea of not working with Reynolds."

"That would be hard. Not going to bed with Charlie every night — wouldn't it?"

Don suddenly stood. "Don't answer her, Archie. You and Megan discuss that amongst yourselves. Later. We need to head back, before we arouse suspicions."

David nodded. "You and Archie first, you've been gone longer. Megan and I will wait a few minutes."

Don reached out a hand to Archie, who grabbed it and stood with with a wicked smile. "Baby. Sweet cakes, I'm feeling tense. I need another massage. This time, let's have the therapists give us the couples' special."

Don started to shake his head, and Archie poked out her bottom lip.

"We can lie there and talk about my money. You can ask for an allowance."

Don felt himself blushing uncomfortably as he heard Megan and David chuckling behind them.

"Come on, then," he growled, jerking Archie a little closer on the path. "Kumquat."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

— _**BACKSTORY —**_

Damn.

Charlie had forgotten to take his cell off "silent" again after his last class, and while he and Larry sat in his office and discussed the potential new grading policy proposed at yesterday's faculty meeting, Archimedes had called.

He listened to the voice mail, his expression growing more and more unhappy. She left the message almost two hours ago. Called away on assignment. Wouldn't be able to maintain contact from her location, but hoped to be away for only a few days. Loved him very much. Apologized for letting him leave the house in two different colored socks; felt he should be aware of it, and try a little harder while she was gone.

Charlie looked down and stuck his ankles out of his jeans while he listened to the message again. Not even close. One green, one white. How the hell had that happened?

Alone in his own office, he still blushed when he remembered how the hell that had happened. When he came back to their bedroom after his shower that morning, Archimedes was standing in the door of the closet, wearing only a child's football helment that she had found in the back. Her voice was muffled as she tried to yank it off and demanded his help. Of course Charlie had laughed at the picture, and of course he tried to be gentle as he pried the helmet off. It really wasn't his fault that when it finally popped off they both flew backwards and landed in a heap on the floor. It really wasn't his fault that his body had a natural reaction to a naked woman lying on top of him. Therefore, it really wasn't his fault that they had almost both been late for work — and now he was wearing two different colored socks.

He smiled and tossed the phone to the desk — where it slid until it crashed into another. Charlie frowned. Whose phone was … He shook his head. Larry. Larry was becoming a cell afficiando, always hoping for a call from Megan, these days. Charlie reached over and picked it up, saw that there was also a voice mail waiting on this phone. He had to return some books to the math and sciences faculty library. He'd better stop at Larry's class and leave it on the desk for him.

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When Gary had put the handgun, its extra magazine and ammunition into his book bag, he told himself that he didn't really have any plans for it. He just wanted to have it with him today.

He tensed up as soon as Dr. Fleinhardt came into the lecture hall through the faculty entrance in back. The diminutive professor was carrying a stack of papers and a handful of pencils. There had not been a test scheduled for today. Gary would have skipped class if there had. He was already in danger of losing his scholarship.

He began a slow panic when the Dr. announced the surprise quiz, and his groans joined those of several others. He looked around. He could get sick, and leave. It wouldn't be hard. He did feel like he could throw up pretty easily.

Then that asshole Tranden, passing out pencils for Dr. Fleinhardt, paused in front of Gary's chair. He deliberately broke the lead off a pencil on the back of the chair in front of him, then dropped it in front of Gary. "Might as well give this to you, idiot," he said, sneering. " It's not like you even know what class you're in."

Gary knew he was reddening as he grabbed his book bag. "I have my own," he mumbled, reaching inside. Tranden was still laughing, and now the cute blonde in the next chair was laughing at him, too. Gary reached for the pencil in his bag and felt the cold steel.

He was as surprised as they were, when he drew the gun out of his book bag and blew Tranden into the next row of seats.

Having done that, he had to find a way to stop the screaming, so he tried to find the loudest voices and make them stop. He kept yelling at them to stop screaming. Every time someone would not stop, he shot them, too. Finally, he was in a corner near the front of the room. He saw a student reach for the door to the lecture hall, so he fired and was surprised again. He didn't know his aim was that good.

"Nobody else tries to leave," he shouted above the noise. "Nobody says anything! I need … I need you all to be quiet! I have to think!" He saw that he had brought his book bag with him to the front of the classroom, so while he thought, he carefully ejected one magazine and replaced it with a full one.

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He'd have to hurry. The physics class Larry was teaching was about as far from the math class Charlie had to teach next as it could be, and still be considered in the same building. The faculty library was about dead center. So, he'd return the phone, then the books, hopefully get to the classroom early enough to prepare the lesson.

Charlie paused in the hall to look through the window, but the shade was drawn, so he continued on toward the back of the lecture hall. He would just quietly open the faculty entrance door and cross the few feet to the desk, lay the phone down. Larry had planned a surprise quiz for this class, so at least he wouldn't be interrupting a lecture.

He pushed the door open softly, heard Larry's voice. "Garrison, please. Tell me what you want."

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Damn Dr, Fleinhardt. If he hadn't tried to talk to him, Gary would have seen the door opening before he did, and he might not have fired. At least not so many times.

He recognized Dr. Eppes as the first two shots sank him to the floor, and it upset Gary. He liked Dr. Eppes. He was trying to help Gary keep his scholarship. The sudden fear that gripped him translated to the gun in his hand, and he kept firing. There was no human target, anymore, so the white board on the wall took a few hits. A large chunk of it broke off, and crashed on top of Dr. Eppes. It looked like maybe it hit him in the head.

Then Dr, Fleinhardt was moving, trying to get to Dr. Eppes.

Gary didn't mean to shoot him either, but he was still firing.

He saw Dr. Fleinhardt go down.

He saw an unbelievable amount of blood surrounding Dr. Eppes, leaking from his gut, soaking his entire shirt, and one arm of his jacket, and pouring out of his head …

Gary realized that he was one of the voices screaming.

He was sorry. God, he was sorry. He never meant for any of this to happen.

He saw Campus Security barge through the back door, and he barley had time to make it right.

He put the gun in his mouth, and fired once more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Charlie found himself standing beside a stream that seemed to wander aimlessly through the mountains. He wasn't sure how he got there, but it seemed vaguely familiar. There was an outcropping of rocks — boulders, really — at a bend in the stream, and he sat down to listen to the water. It was very soothing, trickling gently over pebbles. It almost put him to sleep._

"_Whiz Kid! Good to see you."_

_Charlie looked up, startled, into Colby Granger's smile._

_Which was not possible._

"_C – Colby?"_

"_Shove over." Colby sat on the boulder beside him. "I saw your name on the list, so I came early."_

"_What?"_

"_This is what I do, here. I'm still a Special Agent, in a manner of speaking." Colby chuckled. _

_Charlie reached out a tentative hand to touch Colby's arm. Seemed solid enough._

"_I don't understand." The mountain stream suddenly placed itself in his memory. "Are we back at your cabin?"_

_Colby looked at him. "Looks that way. I was kind-of surprised that this is what you made it. Everybody makes it whatever they want to, so I never know what I'll find. This was a surprise. It's nice."_

_Charlie suddenly shivered. "What is this place?"_

"_I like to refer to it as a 'holding cell'. Not that the people who come here are on their way to jail. It's just what it reminds me of. You're here until you decide what you're going to do."_

"_I don't understand," Charlie repeated._

_Colby stood back up and stretched, turned his face to the sun. "I always loved it here, Charlie. Thanks for letting me come back here." Then he turned back to face Charlie, moved a little to block the sun. "I met your mother. She's cool."_

"_What?" Charlie stood quickly and tried to peer over Colby's shoulder. "Is she here?"_

"_Nah. This isn't where she works. She's on the other side. You can only see her if you choose to go there."_

_Charlie looked at Colby desperately. "The other side? Of what? Is that … is that heaven? Am I dead?"_

_Colby smiled at him a little sadly. "Some things you can't know until after you choose, Charlie. But you're not dead. Yet. You're deciding."_

_Charlie felt an indescribable sadness and sank back down onto the boulder. This close. This close and he couldn't see her. "I don't understand," he said a third time._

_Colby suddenly brightened. "Hey, Charlie, I escorted an agent I used to work with last week, and he told me about the Whiz Kid Foundation, the Colby S. Granger Fund. That is so cool. You are something else. It means a lot, man. Thanks, really."_

_Charlie blinked up at him. "Escorted. You're here to take me somewhere?"_

"_Only if you want to go. Not everybody gets to choose. Some take the A-train. But sometimes, it can go either way."_

"_And my mother is there?"_

"_Yeah, she's there."_

_Charlie smiled. "Then it must be heaven."_

_Colby smiled back, but didn't say anything._

_Charlie remembered some things then, and he shivered again. "But … But Colby … I got married."_

_Colby sat down next to him again. "You're kidding. Unless someone I'm escorting tells me these things, I never know what's going on back there. Who is she?"_

_Charlie grinned. "Archimedes."_

_Colby wiggled an eyebrow. "Gesundheit."_

_Charlie laughed. "Stop it. That's her name. Her parents named her … you won't believe this … they named her for the man who discovered Pi. They both teach high school math. Anyway, most people call her Archie, but I think she's too beautiful for that. She was supposed to be your permanent replacement, but after we got married she transferred to Reynolds' team."_

_Colby looked surprised. "My replacement? You married an FBI agent?"_

_Charlie nodded._

"_Wow." Colby looked a little stunned. "Just don't tell me Don is married to a math teacher."_

_Charlie laughed, the sound breaking off in a sudden choke. "I've missed you."_

_Colby smiled at him fondly. "I know, Whiz Kid. I could feel that."_

_The two sat silently at the water's edge. Charlie lost track of time, for a while. Eventually, Colby cleared his throat._

"_Charlie? There's kind-of a time limit on these things."_

_Charlie noticed that the sun had started to set, and he was feeling a little cold. He understood, suddenly. "I have to choose. Between them. Archimedes, Don, Dad … or Mom."_

_Colby nodded. "That's one way to put it. Even here, Charlie — even here, you can't have everything. Not yet."_

_Charlie huddled into himself. The wind was blowing, now, chilling him to the bone._

_He had to choose?_

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Alan returned to the hospital a little early, so that he could stop by Larry's room first.

The professor was just pushing away his dinner tray, and Alan was pleased to see that he looked a lot better than he had the last time he had seen him. The IV pole was gone, and the bed was at a 45-degree angle. He could see the thick bandaging on his shoulder under the hospital gown, even with his arm in a sling across his chest, and winced a little. He made himself smile.

"Larry. You're looking much better."

Wary eyes regarded him. "I am, Alan, thank you. The bullet missed everything major. It's simply a matter of muscle damage."

"That's no small matter itself, Larry. It will take you some time, some therapy … But only two days after surgery, you're sitting up and eating. That's good."

Larry didn't even attempt a smile. "How is Charles? I know that he was quite seriously wounded … I can't recall everything you told me, yesterday."

Alan sighed and rubbed his chin. "What do you remember?"

Larry furrowed his brow. "I remember you said he was shot three times … the abdomen, chest, and arm? And some sort of head injury?"

"Right. Apparently some of the white board fell off the wall, sliced into his temple. That took several stitches … if he had ever been awake, they could grade his concussion, but he hadn't regained consciousness before the surgeries, and now they have him in a barbituate-induced coma. There's swelling — brain — and they want to give it a chance to heal itself without additional surgery."

Larry frowned. "Surgeries? Plural?"

Alan hesitated.

"Please, Alan, I'm much better now. The doctor is speaking of releasing me tomorrow, or the next day — I need to hear about Charles."

"All right. Two teams worked on his abdomen and his chest wounds. He's lost his spleen, several feet of intestine, his liver was nicked — but they repaired that. They had to remove almost a quarter of his stomach … A lot of damage. They're very concerned about infection, with that one. The bullet into his chest missed his heart — thank God — but there were some extensive repairs to his left lung. Those two surgeries were done at the same time, and went on for almost ten hours — he was opened from his neck to his navel, Larry, his sternum had to be sawed in half …" Alan felt himself losing control and stopped to take a breath. "The next day, the orthopedic surgeon felt he couldn't wait any longer to repair his arm. The radius bone was shattered, and it took several plates, pins, screws … bionic implants, for all I know. Anyway, that took another three hours. It was during that second surgery that his brain began to swell. They think it's a combination of the head injury and the anesthesia."

"Dear God," Larry had paled. "What's his prognosis?"

"Guarded." Alan's voice was a whisper, and he coughed to clear his throat. "They wouldn't let me see him at all until yesterday, and then for only 15 minutes. This morning they allowed me in the room for half-an-hour. I get another half-hour visit tonight. So maybe he's improving …"

"Archimedes and Don must be in pieces, themselves."

"I can't reach them. They don't know."

Larry looked horrified. "What?" Understanding began to dawn on his face. "I left Megan a voice mail yesterday … she's never returned it. I must say, I was surprised that I even had to call her, I thought that she would come when she heard the news." He looked at Alan. "You've been here all alone. I'm so sorry."

Alan felt tears threaten and straightened a little. "Listen, Larry. I've been trying to reach Director Merrick, and get them back here — obviously something is going on, if they're all gone. But when you're released, please come and stay with me at the house."

Larry started to protest. "Alan, that's not necessary …"

Alan put on the face he saved for Charlie's deepest moments of distraction, when he couldn't get him to eat, or sleep. "Yes, it is. You know if Archie were here, she would insist upon it. Just for a few days." He let his guard down a little. "Please. Neither one of us should be alone anymore."

Larry nodded and opened his mouth to say something else when they heard it over the hospital p.a. system.

"Code Blue, ICU 12. Repeat, Code Blue, ICU 12. Drs. Reese and Fitzgerald, stat to ICU 12. Code Blue."

The blood drained from Alan's face and he looked at Larry in horror.

"That's Charlie."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Don shifted uncomfortably on the bench facing the fountain.

All sorts of things just weren't right.

For one thing, he didn't like inactivity. Sitting on a stupid bench watching a stupid fountain waiting for something — he wasn't sure what — to happen. It made him feel hinky.

And another thing He hadn't seen David or Megan at breakfast. True, the dining room served breakfast for two hours, and technically they could have come and gone either before or after Don and Archie. Except that being there at the same time was part of the game plan. Their absence was definitely hinky.

Then, there was home.

Something wasn't right at home.

It was making him crazy to be cut off from the outside world. No way to call his father, or Charlie. No newspapers or televisions. He tried to tell himself that the frustration of it was what tightened his chest a little more with every passing hour.

It was ridiculous. He had lived independently for quite some time. Away from Charlie for years. But he couldn't stop it. The last couple of days, it would just happen. During a massage, a swim in the spa pool, even a horseback ride yesterday. Suddenly, something in his head would whisper, 'Charlie', and he would break out in a cold sweat.

When Archie had confessed similar feelings last night on their walk to meet David and Megan, it had scared him so badly he almost got up and left.

It was crazy. He couldn't blow an undercover operation, resign from the FBI, run home … just because of a strange and unwelcome obsession about his brother.

No, that would be beyond hinky.

He felt Archie stiffen beside him. "Look who's coming."

Don followed her gaze, surprised. David was striding right for them. They weren't supposed to know each other. Why was David taking this risk? Where was Megan?

David stopped and spoke with another couple, then came to them at the bench.

"Excuse me." He stuck a hand out, and Don shook it, waiting. "David Sandoval. I've seen you around, the last few days. Perhaps you've noticed my wife and I. She's about six inches shorter than I am, long honey-blond hair, green eyes — I seem to have misplaced her." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm just asking around. Megan. My wife's name is Megan."

"We'll help you look," offered Archie, standing. She looked down at Don. "Sweetheart, we can skip that yoga class."

Don stood to play his part, but suddenly there was a spa employee there, obvious from his salmon-colored polo shirt. "Mr. and Mrs. Martin! I hope you're enjoying your stay. Mr. Sandoval, if I might have a moment of your time? I need to speak with you privately."

David held Don's eyes for a moment before he answered "Of course", and allowed himself to be led away.

Don looked long and hard at Archie.

_That_ — that was definitely hinky.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Alan leaned forward in the chair, hands hanging between his knees.

"I don't understand." His voice was bewildered. "He was fine when I left this morning." He heard his own words and grimaced. "Well. Shot three times, unconscious … relatively speaking, he was fine."

Dr. Fitzgerald smiled kindly. "It's not totally unexpected. Infection was always a risk. His temperature began to rise just a few hours after you left. We tried to keep it under control, but within hours, it was high enough to cause the seizure, which in turn led to the flatline."

"I don't need to hear all that again," Alan said, not a little angrily. "I need to hear what you're going to do about it."

Dr. Reese spoke up this time. "As much as we can. We've been aggressive with antibiotics since your son first presented in the ER, but we've added two more — sort-of an antibiotic cocktail, we're going for. We're tapering off the barbiturates. The fluid around his brain and the swelling seem to have reduced, if only minimally. Ideally, we'd like to leave him under for a few more days, but the use of a medically-induced coma state is becoming highly controversial – in part because of increased infections. Because there is still brain trauma, we're also weaning him from the breathing tube. If he is drawing enough oxygen on his own by morning, we'll remove that while he is still under some residual barbiturate influence. We don't want him to wake up and start fighting it. The fever is quite high, so he is being placed on a special cooling bed and packed with ice."

"Packed with ice?"

"It's vital that we reduce his temperature."

Alan swallowed. "How high is it?"

Dr. Reese met his gaze. "106. Which is an improvement. When the seizure began, it was over 107."

"Dear God. How long can that go on without permanent damage?"

"We'll do all we can to prevent that," responded Dr. Fitzgerald, telling Alan more with his non-answer than he really wanted to know.

Dr. Reese stood to signal an end to the meeting. "I'm afraid we can't allow you to see him again today."

Alan actually moaned with physical pain, and the doctor's eyes softened. "I'm sorry, Mr. Eppes. By morning, we're hoping that the fever will be broken, the breathing tube out, the barbiturates in his system greatly reduced. We're hoping your son has a busy night. We hope he has the strength for it."

Alan stood and prepared to go back and update Larry. "So do I," he mumbled, heading for the door of the office. "So do I."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

David clutched the photograph of Megan in his hand. She was gagged, tied to a chair. He tried to focus on the words floating around him.

"So you see, Mr. Sandoval, it really is in your wife's best interest to make a donation. Our research department is very thorough. We know that you are both quite wealthy. A few million is really nothing to you."

"I need some time, Richards," David growled. "It's not like we brought that much with us."

Jordan Richards spread his fingers out over the desk between them. "Of course. But we need you to understand that time is of the essence. You have 12 hours for the money to be successfully wired to this account." He shoved a slip of paper toward David and stood. "I will leave you with this telephone for a few minutes. Please be aware that everything you say is being monitored, and that your wife is not safe." Richards opened a desk drawer and removed a small box — the kind that comes from a jewelry store. He stood and walked around the desk, offering the box to David. "For every hour we are forced to wait beyond that deadline, we will add one of these to your collection."

David refused to take the box, so Jordan Richards sighed and placed it delicately on the desk in front of him. "Time starts now, Mr. Sandoval." With that, he left David alone.

David heard the click of the door behind him, heard a key turning in a lock. His eyes searched the room and he saw video cameras mounted in two corners. Who knew what other equipment he couldn't see. He reached out and picked up the box, opened it carefully.

It was rather artfully presented, arranged in a bed of cotton.

Long, slender, wearing what David knew was one of Megan's favorite rings.

He swore.

Richards had literally given him the finger.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

After another unsuccessful attempt at reaching Director Merrick, Alan was at the hospital by 9 a.m. Dr. Fitzgerald was just coming out of Charlie's room, and he led Alan away from the door, to the waiting area.

"I'll let you see Charlie, but only for a few minutes this morning. We just finished removing the breathing tube. He has a nasal canula now. He's still unconscious. It could be anywhere from another 12 to 24 hours before his system is clear of the barbiturates."

"How is the infection? The fever?"

Dr. Fitzgerald regarded him solemnly for a moment. "Mr. Eppes, have you been able to reach your son's wife, or your other son?"

A cold hand of fear clawed at Alan's chest. He couldn't speak, so he just shook his head.

The doctor rubbed weary eyes. "There is … improvement. His temperature is still over 103, and we're continuing the cooling bed and the ice. Mr. Eppes, Charlie is growing weaker. The fever is still too high, he was too gravely injured …"

Alan could hardly breathe, and was surprised to hear his own voice. "Are you telling me Charlie is going to die?"

"I just don't know, Mr. Eppes. I think it might help if his wife and brother were here …"

Alan dropped his head. "I'm trying to reach them …"

The doctor stood. "I'm sure you're doing all you can. Remember, only 10 minutes. You can come back late this afternoon, and we'll see how he is then."

Alan was in a haze as he walked back to Charlie's room. Pushing open the door, he wondered if he had remembered to thank the doctor. He froze in the doorway.

Charlie didn't even have a sheet over him. Clear plastic bags of ice were packed all around him, some protected by towels to ensure that the bandages on his abdomen, chest and arm weren't subjected to moisture. A nurse stood over the bed, gently wiping his face, his good arm, even his legs, with a cloth, which she would often dip into a bowl of ice water on the bedside table.

He was so still.

Alan came a little closer so that he could look at the monitors to be sure that Charlie was breathing.

"Would you like to help?"

The nurse extended another damp wash cloth, and Alan moved until he could reach across the bed to take it. They both worked over Charlie for a while. Alan tried hard not to let the tears pressing against the back of his eyes spill out. He knew that tears were hot, and Charlie was hot enough right now. He didn't need his old man crying on him.

When it was his turn to bathe Charlie's face, he let his fingers stray to the curls and pushed them back.

"Charlie … I know you can do this. I'm sure it's hard son, but look at all you've done already. And you have Archie, now. Someone else who needs you, as much as your brother and I do … we saw you fight your way back last year, but Archie hasn't seen that yet. You need to show her. You need to do it again. You need …" Alan's voice cracked a little. "You need to stay with us."

After 10 minutes, the nurse quietly took away the damp cloth.

Alan leaned over the bed rail and kissed Charlie's forehead carefully, inhaling the scent of him, remembering the first time he had ever done that, when Charlie was only a few hours old.

He straightened, and left for Larry's room.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"I don't feel right about leaving you here alone."

When Alan had reached Larry's room, the news had been better. Dr. Fleinhardt was being released. It was a welcome distraction, getting Larry in the car, stopping at his house to pick up some things for him, getting him home.

Now Larry was in Don's old room, propped up in his bed. "Alan, I'm fine. You've fed me and watered me and given me pain meds — I'll be asleep before you're gone. Please go and see Charles."

"You might wake up and need something. I'll stay as long as they'll let me, so I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"I can move on my own, Alan. Just a tad slowly, at the moment."

Alan stood, hands on hips. "Wait here," he finally said.

Larry looked at him with suspicion. "Alan, please. Not Mrs. Singer."

Alan just smiled and turned on his heel.

It had to have taken several minutes, but the pain meds were making him fuzzy. It was too soon when he heard steps on the stairs. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping they would think he was asleep.

"Ya, and dere is Dr. Larry, now. Da poor man. Ach, da poor man."

Alan could tell he wasn't really asleep. "Larry, you remember my neighbor, Hildegard Singer?"

"Oh, da dear Dr. Larry knows, I am only Hildy!"

Larry opened one eye, then the other, and regarded the perfectly spherical shape before him. Barely 4 feet tall, 400 pounds if she was an ounce … and she was definitely an ounce. The Lucille-Ball-orange wig on her head — and Larry knew it was a wig, for he had seen her without it — reflected a color not found in nature. It was also laden with curlers, and he wondered vaguely why a woman would wear a wig full of curlers. She was clutching several photo albums to her ample bosom, and waddled over to the bedside table to plop them down.

"Ya, and I bring da pitchers of my Ingrid, her seven babies. I not have da time to get dem all, so I be bringing only dis year, Dr. Larry."

Alan was starting to think this had been a mistake. "He's just had some medication, Mrs. Singer. I'm sure Dr. L … I mean, I'm sure Larry will sleep most of the afternoon."

"Okey-dokey," she responded happily. "Da poor man, he be needin his sleep, now." She suddenly leaned over the bed to bestow a sloppy kiss on his head, and Larry was terrified she would lose her balance and topple over onto him. The fear was quickly replaced with wonder as he eyed the mountain of breast that strained against her housedress as she leaned over him, and he hoped that they wouldn't escape.

"Ah, Mrs. Singer …" Alan helped her stand back up. "We should let him rest." Alan placed a small dinner bell within Larry's reach. "I found this, I used it when Charlie first came home from rehab. Just ring if you need something."

Mrs. Singer beamed at them both. "Ya, and ain't you da smart one, now! Dat will work good, sure it will." Alan stepped back so she could turn her bulk and head back down the stairs. As she left the room, she was still talking. "Ya, and I'll jist be in da kitchen. I be maken some spritzbaaken for ya both, some Svedish meatballs, too. I bring some of da smoked reindeer and jellied eel, too. I maken dem yestiday. It be good food, from home. Dey all be stickin to your ribs, now …"

Her voice faded under the thunder of her descension down the stairs. Alan looked guiltily at Larry, shrugged his shoulders. "She has a fine heart …"

Larry sighed and closed his eyes again.

He silently begged for the pain meds to take him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Megan shifted uncomfortably in the chair.

Her finger throbbed. He had been unnecessarily rough, ripping her ring off.

She thought sadly of the ring. It was one of her favorites. She'd had it since high school. It was a gift from her grandmother, but its value was all sentimental. It wasn't worth anything, it didn't even look like it would be worth something — why had he wanted it so badly?

She didn't know where she was, or why she was there. She had left the cottage for an early-morning swim before breakfast, but she never got to the pool. She was chatting with another guest in the locker room … she'd thought it was another guest, anyway. Then there was a hand clapped over her mouth, a chloroform-soaked handkerchief, a brief struggle … and then she was here, waking up in this chair, and that idiot was ripping her ring off.

She wondered how long she had been here. Long enough so that the intense headache had dulled to an occasional throb. Long enough to need a trip to the bathroom. Long enough to hope David, Don and Archie were going to find her, soon.

She heard the key turning in the lock and her head jerked up as the door opened. Her eyes widened, and her heart fell.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

At first, Alan was frantic to get into the room, relieved beyond measure that they said he could spend a full hour with Charlie.

Then, he was frantic to get out.

The ice packs remained.

The monitor showed his temperature holding steady at 103, his heart rate not far behind. Although not alert, Charlie had come out of the coma enough to feel — there wasn't enough pain medication in the world to prevent that — and every exhale was an agonized moan, the sound tearing at Alan's ears over and over.

He rested a hand on his son's hot forehead and tried to sooth him.

Charlie looked worse than he had this morning. If they were letting him stay for an entire hour, it must be because they didn't expect him to live through the night.

So Alan used his hour. He used it to channel the heartbreak and terror and frustration of the last four days into white-hot, blinding anger, not caring if that anger somehow transmitted itself to Charlie. Hoping, in fact, that it did. Let Charlie pick up some of his anger. If he understood, on some level, sensed how angry he was, maybe he would be concerned enough to come back and find out why. Failing that, maybe the energy of it would refuel him for another battle.

Alan was careful to say the right things, to assure Charlie countless times that he was loved. He was wanted. He was needed. He was missed.

But Alan was angry. Alan was angry, and he didn't care if Charlie knew that.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"I suppose I should thank you for taking my call."

He had let the anger propel him out of Charlie's room after an hour, out into the front lobby of the hospital, where his cell phone would work. He had been momentarily surprised when the secretary said she would put him through to Director Merrick, but the anger had quickly resurfaced.

"Mr. Eppes, I apologize. I've been out of the country. Your calls should have been routed to the Assistant Director."

"I need to reach my son, and my daughter-in-law. Now."

"I understand. Again, I apologize. When I returned to the office this afternoon and saw the reports, I assumed the operation had been terminated. The A.D. should have sent an extrication team right away. I assure you that he will be dealt with. The A.D. is currently suspended without pay pending an investigation. I sent an extrication team immediately, via chopper, to expedite the return of Agents Eppes and Travis."

The flood of relief almost put out the fire of anger. Almost. "Thank God. When did the team leave? How far away is the operation? When will Don and Archie be back? Charlie is very ill."

In the millisecond of silence, Alan felt the air change.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Eppes, I received communication from the extrication team just a few minutes before your call. I'm very sorry."

Alan tried to grab the anger. It was receding under a wall of fear. "What is it?"

Director Merrick sounded truly disturbed. "When the team got there, the four Agents already in place — including Agents Eppes and Travis — were not where they were supposed to be. Mr. Eppes, I'm truly sorry to tell you this. Your son, your daughter-in-law, Megan Reeves and David Sinclair — they've disappeared."

Alan didn't feel the cell slip from his hand, but he watched in fascination as it shattered on the floor.

And then he soundlessly followed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Jordan Richards watched his men secure the prisoners.

"You must think we're complete idiots. Did you honestly believe that we wouldn't have the resources to collect your prints, run them, discover your ill-advised undercover operation? I should have let my men truly cut off her finger, instead of using one of the bodies provided by my contact at the morgue." His sneer changed to a look of thoughtfulness. "Not that it matters anymore. You'll all be dead, soon. And they'll never find you. Perhaps I'll let the men do what they will, first … and the pieces will never be found."

The room only had one chair, so the newest three Agents — gagged, hands bound — were tossed roughly to the floor, where their feet were also secured. Then they were jerked into a sitting position and propped up against the wall, like something to be stored. Still lethargic from chloroform, David couldn't take his eyes off Megan's swollen and bruised finger, visible in the hands tied behind the chair. He was ridiculously happy to see it. Don locked eyes with his brother's wife, and tried to silently reassure her … of what, he didn't know.

Richards began to speak again. "Anton," he barked. "We'll need the truck for transport. Anything you do to them, do in the desert. I don't want their blood here. I want nothing here that can be traced. When you're finished, I want you all back here. This room, both cottages, _everything_ … everything has to be cleaned. We need to eliminate all traces that any of them were ever here. Get on with it."

He turned to leave, but stopped at the door and looked at the Agents one last time. "So which of us are idiots now?"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Larry wondered if Alan was ever coming home.

It must be good news, his being gone this long. They must have let him stay with Charles for a long time this afternoon.

Still, the smells wafting up the stairs were not entirely pleasant, and Larry could hear Mrs. Singer bellowing something in Swedish as she crashed about in the kitchen. In truth, Hildy Singer frightened him not a little. She reminded him of his Aunt Louise.

He hoped Alan was coming home soon.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

_The wind had picked up considerably, and Colby had to shout to be heard._

"_It's okay to go back, Charlie."_

_Charlie looked at him, confused. He had grown almost unbearably hot, even though the wind blew so strongly. Colby took a step closer so that he could lower his voice, and looked around like he expected to see something._

"_Look," he said into Charlie's ear, "I'm not supposed to influence you. But the people back there, they still need you. You don't have to worry about your Mom." He looked at Charlie intently and seemed to read his mind. "Or me. Not at all. It's good on this side. We can wait." Colby looked around again. "I hope I don't lose my job over this. It's your call, Charlie. It really is okay, whatever you decide. But you're out of time, here. You have to decide now."_

_Charlie was getting cold again. He could barely keep up with the changes. He looked at Colby desperately._

_He didn't like this holding cell._

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The ER attending was friendly, and smiled as he ran the paper tape through his fingers.

"EKG looks good, Mr. Eppes. All your vitals are a little elevated, but from what you've told me, I'm sure that's stress. I'm fairly certain we're not looking at a cardiac event here, but I'd like to observe you for several hours and leave you hooked up to the machine to be sure."

Alan shifted on the gurney impatiently. "I can't. That's not possible. My son's best friend was also wounded in the Cal Sci shooting, and he's at my home recuperating. My neighbor is with him, but I've already been gone too long."

The doctor's smile didn't waver. "Explain to me how it will be helpful to him for you to go home and have a massive coronary while helping him to the bathroom?"

Alan stared up at him sullenly. "I need to at least make a call."

"I'll send a nurse in. We don't allow outside calls in the treatment rooms, but you can give her a number, and a message, and she'll be happy to make the call for you."

Alan was suddenly almost as overwhelmed as he had been in the hospital lobby. Charlie could be dying. Don could be dying. Archie could be dying. Larry was at the mercy of Hildy Singer, and he still had to tell him about Megan … who also could be dying. Tears welled up in his eyes.

The doctor's friendly smile turned to concern. "Mr. Eppes? Are you in pain?"

Alan shook his head.

"Please. I need to see a Rabbi."


	9. Chapter 9

****

Chapter 9

The spa property went on for acres, delicately placed over lush, rolling hills. From the knolls, you could see the ocean in the distance. But when Jordan Richards left the empty storage building near the stables on the edge of the property that evening, and began a slow stroll back to his office, what he saw from the top of the first knoll was not an ocean.

At least not a blue, watery ocean. An ocean of vehicles, bumper-to-bumper, headed up the access road. Startled, he made a 90-degree turn, saw another ocean coming up the back access road.

He hesitated, then smiled and turned back toward the stables. Horses had to be good for something. He had almost reached the tack room when Anton came out of the shadows, around the corner of the building. "Abort," spat out Richards. "We got an army coming at us. You can leave those losers in the shed. Where are the others?" It was then that he noticed the gun Anton leveled at him. Automatically, he took a step backwards. "Wha?"

Anton smiled. "You must think we're complete idiots. Did you really think the FBI would send in four agents with no contingency plan? And don't worry about the others. I sent them to start without me - the clean-up part. I promised we'd all have a barbecue in the desert, later. FBI on a spit. Shame, though ... the guys will be right in the middle of the spa when all that back-up gets here. I'll bet they get caught."

"But you're the one who told me who they were! You've been naming the marks for months."

"True. Had some trouble getting anyone to testify, so I had to design a little sting. You may have noted I let you go after the 'Anderson-Sandovals' just a little too early. Before I discovered who they all really were."

"All this trouble for a little blackmail charge? I never physically hurt anyone, I just made the husbands believe that I had. "

Anton motioned with the gun. "Lay on the ground, hands behind your back." Richards hesitated and Anton chambered a round. "I've been 'under' here for seven months. I have no problem ending it this way."

Jordan Richards did as he was told, still protesting. "This is insane. I'll hardly do any time."

Anton placed one foot in the middle of Richards' back, leaned over and cuffed his hands together. "Well," he mused, straightening again, "let's see. We got the blackmail, the 'Anderson-Sandovals' will testify to that...we got five counts of assault on a federal agent - that's not too good, right there. Then we got the whole black market body trade and dismemberment thing going - something tells me your morgue contact will sing pretty loud, once he's faced with serious jail time. Not to mention your other... _employees_. You rich guys, you should learn to be more generous to your staff. Especially if you want them to do illegal things for you. I'm pretty sure we'll get a few more stories from them."

Anton had to raise his voice to be heard over an approaching helicopter. "ONE MORE THING! RICHARDS!"

Jordan Richards looked up at him.

"WHICH OF US IS AN IDIOT NOW?"

Don had watched David being led away from the fountain that morning and had seen Anton over his shoulder.

He hadn't seen Anton in years - not since his name was Jeremy and he worked a case in New Mexico for almost six months, and Don had been in on the take-down. Anton/Jeremy was the FBI's equivalent of a CIA "spook". Always under. Untraceable. He surfaced only for the wind-down and the bust, disappeared during the smoke. Most Agents didn't even know they existed.

But Don had managed to run into the same operative twice during his career. While he and Archie sat by the fountain after David had left, Anton had appeared bearing a tray with two glasses.

He smiled directly into Don's eyes. "Mr. and Mrs. Martin. I thought you would enjoy our specialty drink of the day, a combination of fruits and vegetables. It has a slight kick to it, but I'm sure you'll like it." He handed a glass to Don. "Please. Trust me on this."

And so Don had.

As Agents burst into the storage shed, he waited to be released and searched in the background for Anton. This time he wanted to talk to him before he disappeared. He was so intent on this search that he didn't focus on Reynolds, Archie's senior agent, talking to him until the man actually grabbed his arm.

Don jerked back. "What?"

"I said, the chopper is landing! You and Archie need to get on it, Merrick sent it for you."

The noise of the chopper was loud, even in the storage building. "Why? We've got to give our statements, finish the take-down."

Reynolds was shaking his head. Archie, rubbing her wrists, had joined them. "What's going on?"

Reynolds raised his voice a little over the noise. "Merrick wants you two back, now! He sent the chopper."

Don still didn't get it. "We're only an hour out of L.A.! We've got a car, here."

Reynolds grabbed his arm again. "Eppes! Don't worry about the car, we'll get it back somehow. Get Archie on the chopper."

He started for the door, actually dragging Don behind him for a few steps. Don jerked away again and stopped. "TELL ME WHY?", he shouted again above the noise.

Instead, Reynolds started pulling at Archie. "YOUR HUSBAND!", Reynolds shouted over the noise of the chopper. He looked again at Don. 'YOUR BROTHER! CHARLIE IS DYING!"

The hospital chaplains included a Protestant minister, a Catholic priest and a Jewish Rabbi. Understandably, they heard their share of jokes. Thankfully, all three had a sense of humour. Also thankfully, all three shared compassion.

The Rabbi sat by Alan in the treatment room and let him talk, let him share the fear that had taken over his soul.

When Alan finished, the Rabbi was silent for a few moments, simply holding Alan's gaze, smiling gently. It made no sense, but Alan actually began to relax.

"You know that in Judaism," the Rabbi finally said softly, "life is valued above almost all else. Sometimes, Alan, sometimes ... wars are won by hope. And so we will not say kaddish, we will not sit shiva together, for your sons still live. Instead, in hope, let us say a prayer of Shabbat - the blessing for children." The Rabbi smiled once more and fingered his prayer shawl. He began in an almost sing-song voice, and the words, so long ignored by Alan, came to him, and he joined in:

_Ye'varech'echa Adonoy ve'yish'merevha._

Ya'ir Adonoy panav eileca viy-chuneka.

Yisa Adonoy panav eilecha, ve'yasim lecha shalom.

**A/N: Apologies for anything disrespectful I may have inadvertently done to Jewish traditions. Translation of the Blessing for Children:**

May G-d bless you and watch over you.

May G-d shine His face toward you and show you favor.

May G-d be favorably disposed toward you and grant you peace.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Fanfic not playing nice, last two days. Apologies for formatting problems.**

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Chapter 10

The hospital actually gave them clearance to use the helipad on the roof, since it was clear and no life flights were currently in transit. Don and Archie took the stairs all the way to the ground floor. Waiting for an elevator was not an option.

The stairwell door let them out into the lobby, and they quickly crossed to the reception desk. "Eppes", the both said at the same time, breathlessly.

The pink lady looked a little frightened.

Archie took a breath. "E- P- P- E- S," she spelled, trying to force calmness into her voice.

The volunteer looked at her computer. "Which one?"

Don and Archie looked at each other. Don managed a strangled, "What?"

"We have two," the volunteer said pleasantly. "Alan is in the ER, and Charles is in ICU."

"What?", asked Don again, and then Archie was clawing at his arm.

"Come on. Come on. We'll start with Dad, in the ER. It's closer, and he can tell us what's going on." She started down the hall without him, and he took a few quick steps to catch up.

Once in the Emergency Room waiting area, they gave Alan's name to another pink person, another computer. "Treatment Seven," she said, pointing. "You can go on…" She didn't have a chance to finish her sentence. Don found the "7" on the wall, and pulled back the curtain to that cubicle. When he saw his pale father, tethered to an EKG machine, talking to a Rabbi...Don stumbled and the world went gray. He would have gone down but for a sudden strong arm around him.

Alan's chart clattered to the floor when the doctor dropped it to catch Don. The Rabbi quickly stood, and between him, the doctor and Archie, they managed to get Don to the chair. The doctor kneeled in front of him.

"Breathe. Take a breath. You're all right. Listen to my voice. Look at me. That's it. Just calm down, relax ... keep breathing, that's it." He glanced quickly over his shoulder at Alan, who was suddenly standing behind him, disconnected wires hanging all over the place. "Sit down, Mr. ..." The doctor didn't have any more chance to finish his sentence than the waiting area volunteer had. Oblivious to his still-kneeling form, Alan had Don in his arms, Don was standing again, and the doctor was nearly crushed between their legs.

He popped out from the small space between their knees, and reached for Alan's chart. "I take it you're an Eppes," he said, standing, and was almost knocked over again when Don and Alan moved as one to include Archie in their embrace. The Rabbi reached out to steady him, smiling.

Finally, Don pulled back. "Dad, what happened?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," answered Alan, still touching Don's face with one hand and holding Archie to his chest with the other. "Just a little anxiety thing. Right, doc?"

"Oh, is it my turn, now?" The doctor smiled in spite of himself. "Kind-of an emotional family." Don reddened and the doctor hurried on. "That's okay, that's good, better than the alternative. And yes, Mr. Eppes is fine. I was just coming in to disconnect him and release him..." He looked again at the wires hanging off Alan. "I see he got a head start."

Alan felt Archie turn her head into his chest, and felt her tremble. He moved the hand from Don so that he was fully embracing her. "You know about Charlie." She shook her head against him, and he raised an eyebrow at Don.

"We just know he's here. In ICU. S- Sick." Don reached out a hand to rub Archie's back."What happened?"

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Dr. Reese was just finishing evening rounds when they paged him. He met the Eppes in the ICU waiting room, and agreed to give Archie and Don each five minutes with Charlie. "He's very weak. Please understand that."

He went on to explain the initial injuries, the infection, the high temperature that Charlie had endured for two days, the cooling bed and the ice ... but still, Don was not prepared, when he opened the door and saw his brother.

The world tilted, went a little gray again, and he leaned against the wall near the door and made himself breathe.

His father had told them that a student did this. A sophomore had taken a loaded gun to class and opened fire, killing four outright, wounding seven more students and both Charlie and Larry. Two more students had died since the shooting almost five days ago. While they were waiting for Dr. Reese, Don had used the public phone to call David, told him to take Megan directly to his brother's house when they got back into L.A.

He pushed himself off the wall and slowly approached the bed. Charlie exhaled and Don heard the low moan. He took in the bandages. The flushed, hot skin.

At the bedside now, he reached out a hand, pulled it back. He was afraid to touch him. "Charlie." Don noticed that his own voice was little more than a whisper, but he couldn't seem to do anything about it. "Charlie. It's okay, we're all here now." His breathing was shallow, rapid. Don looked at the monitors. Temperature 103.2. Pulse 97. Respirations 25. Because Charlie couldn't, Don counted. Because Charlie made it so easy, moaning on every exhale, Don counted 125 breaths before he sensed Archie beside him. He knew he should give her some time alone with Charlie, but he couldn't seem to make himself to that, either.

"I'm not leaving."

She leaned over and kissed Charlie gently on dry, parched lips. "Hey," she said softly into his ear. "You were already a hot kisser. You didn't have to go this far." She straightened. "I'm not leaving either." Her voice was stronger than Don's. He wondered how she could do that. "You hear me, Charlie? Archimedes has not left the building."

She wanted to hold his hand, but one arm was nothing but bandage and soft cast from the elbow down, and the other was full of tubes. She picked the one with tubes and lightly ran her finger around the needles, as if negotiating a maze.

Don was going to check the monitors again, but Alan was suddenly blocking his view.

"I couldn't wait out there. I called Mrs. Singer, and she'll stay with Larry until Megan arrives. I'm not leaving him tonight." Alan waited as if he expected an argument, but nobody even looked at him. All eyes were on Charlie.

Twenty minutes later Dr. Reese decided to make one last visit before he called it a night. Opening the door, he was surprised and momentarily disturbed to see all three still there. He approached to escort them out, watching them. Charlie Eppes' wife carefully wiped his brow with a cool cloth. His brother ran another cloth along first one upper arm, then the other. His father's hands guided a third cloth in long and gentle strokes from his knee to his ankle, then stopped to massage Charlie's foot. They were quiet, save for a hum coming from his wife. It was barely detectable over the noise of the monitors.

The monitors. Dr. Reese checked them. Charlie's temperature had gone down almost a full degree since his wife and his brother had arrived, his pulse and respirations were lower. He still moaned, but his wife seemed to anticipate them, and harmonize.

Dr. Reese silently turned and left the room. He needed to advise the nursing staff that Charlie's family could stay as long as they wanted.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

By morning Charlie's temperature, while still elevated, was low enough to discontinue the cooling bed and ice packs. Nurses finally convinced the three Eppes to take a few hours off by explaining that Charlie was scheduled for an MRI to check the condition of his wounds, and then would have to be transferred to another bed. Don almost slugged the petite redhead who finally rolled her eyes at him and said, "We got work to do, ya know", but he saw in time that she was trying to lighten the mood.

He was starting to feel wholly unlike himself.

Archie was the strong one last night, and this morning he almost slugged a woman half his size. Maybe he _should_ take a few hours to decompress.

Director Merrick called his cell before Don managed to phone the office, leaving a voice mail that assured him that both he and Archie were on an indefinite leave of absence. Don went home with Alan and Archie. They found Larry and Megan at the kitchen table.

She jumped up almost guiltily. "I spent the night last night. On the couch. I hope it was okay. It was so late when I got here, and Mrs. Singer had given Larry jellied eel and pain meds, and he wasn't feeling well, and…"

Alan stopped the ramble with a hug. "Hush, Megan. Of course it's all right." He looked over her shoulder at Larry. "Sorry about Mrs. Singer."

Larry smiled. "As you should be, Alan. But I understand that you needed to be with Charles. I'm just pleased Don and Archie are finally back safely." He winked at Megan, who had disentangled herself from Alan and was sitting at the table again. "And Megan and David. Of course." He sobered. "I'm somewhat reluctant to ask…"

"About Charlie?" Alan started for the coffee pot and then thought better of it. He didn't need the caffeine. He stopped in the middle of the kitchen and looked momentarily lost.

"Alan?"

He focused again on Larry, but found that he was too tired to even fake a smile. "He's better. I think. Still feverish, but not so much. They're going to put him in a regular bed, again."

"Has he regained consciousness?"

Alan sighed. "Not really. He seems to be in a great deal of pain, even with all they're giving him...He's having an MRI this morning. I'll go back this afternoon."

"WE will go back this afternoon." It was the first thing Archie had said. So much smaller than the two men standing in the kitchen, they had almost forgotten she was there. Now Megan stood again and crossed the floor to her, where she huddled near the door.

"Archie. I'm so sorry. Larry told me what happened, and it's just...unbelieveable. How are you?"

"I'm f..." Archie looked at Don, quickly. "You two. You and your brother. Teaching a girl denial, because you're such experts." She looked back at Megan. "A wreck. I am a wreck. When I think that Charlie could have...could have _died_, while I was on some stupid case! And poor Alan, not being able to reach any of us. No wonder he ended up in the ER hooked up to an EKG."

Megan's eyes widened and Larry's "Oh, dear" was interrupted by Alan. "I'm all right, it was only an anxiety attack. It's all right."

"Dad, you need to get some rest." Don used his best FBI team leader voice, inviting no debate. "You too, Arch."

Megan hugged Archie for a long moment, then turned again toward the others. "Larry and I were just waiting for you to come home. I have his things ready - thank you so much, Alan, for taking care of him...I thought I could take over, now? Your plate is already full."

"Larry is welcome here," Alan began, but he caught a look from both Don and Archie. "Eh...always welcome. But you're right. It wouldn't be fair to subject him to Mrs. Singer anymore in his condition."

Megan chuckled. "David dropped me off here last night. Let me just call a cab."

Don reached for his keys and realized he hadn't brought the chopper with him. Instead he held up a hand and deftly caught the ones tossed by his father. "Don't be ridiculous, Megan. I'll give you and Larry a ride to...your apartment."

She smiled. "Thanks. I changed the bed in your old room, so promise me you'll come right back here and sleep for a few hours."

"Scout's Honor," he said. "I've gotta come back here. It's Dad's car. Besides, if they're not both asleep by the time I get back, I'm hitting them over the head with a shovel."

** 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 **

Don tried to sleep.

Honestly.

He knew he should be tired. He'd been up all night, after all. But the jumbled mess that passed for a mind would not slow down. Charlie would complain, sometimes, that he had a hard time shutting himself down, and had a lifelong habit of working himself into exhaustion.

Don sat up on the edge of the bed. 107. His temperature had been 107. If Charlie was able to recover from the initial physical trauma, had his prolonged and incredibly high fever done any damage to that frightening brain of his?

Don shivered. He wouldn't think about that possibility. He couldn't.

Giving up, he got up, found the extra clothes he kept here at the house and got dressed. Barefoot, he padded across the hall and quietly opened the door to Charlie and Archie's room. Archie was curled up on her side, hugging Charlie's pillow to her in sleep. He closed the door and padded down the hall to his father's room, where the door was slightly ajar. He only had to stand outside to hear the steady snoring. He smiled, stopped at his own room again for his shoes, and headed down the stairs, where he put them on and left a note, while he waited for a cab.

**1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 **

The petite readhead he had almost slugged three hours ago scowled.

"I thought I told you not to come back until this afternoon. It's only 11."

He didn't feel like charming her. Or anyone else. "I'll wait, if I can't see him. I just want to be...close."

She looked down to check the feed from Charlie's monitors, looked back up and crossed her arms.

"I have an extra patient load today. Working short. I might not notice, if you were to go in early - IF YOU WERE QUIET, I might not notice."

Don grinned, tossed a mock salute, and headed down the hall.

Once in Charlie's room, he immediately crossed to the bed and checked the monitors. 102.4. Up two-tenths. He frowned. Pulse and resps seemed better, though.

He looked at Charlie, who at least looked more normal with a sheet over him instead of surrounded by...sandbags.

He spoke quietly. "Buddy. You're doing great. Keep it up. I'll just sit here awhile, okay?"

Wait.

What was that?

Had he seen Charlie's eyes open a slit, slide shut again?

"Charlie?" He carefully gripped a few fingers on Charlie's uninjured side.

He smiled broadly. This time there was no mistaking it. The eyes were only at half-mast, but they were definitely open.

Charlie's mouth worked. No sound came out. Don looked around and was glad to find a fairly fresh cup of ice chips on the bedside table. He let go of Charlie's fingers, and his own hand shook as he spooned a tiny sliver of ice into his brother's mouth. He saw it melt almost immediately. Charlie's mouth worked like he wanted more, but Don was afraid to give it to him. He was still considering it when he heard a raspy sound come from Charlie.

He leaned over and tilted an ear toward Charlie, grabbed his fingers again. "What? Did you say something, Buddy?"

There it was again, more of a breath than a word. "...Need…"

His heart quickened. "What do you need, Charlie? I'll get it for you."

"...Y...You..." Charlie moaned a little, swallowed, then added one last word with obvious effort. "Scared."

Don squeezed his own eyes shut, pulled back a little and spoke quietly into Charlie's ear. "Don't be scared, Buddy, I'm right here. Don will take care of everything." He applied a little more pressure to Charlie's fingers. "Do you feel that, Charlie? I'm right here. I'm staying right here. Just rest. It's all right."

He pulled back a little more, looked at Charlie's face. The eyes were closed again, he hoped that he'd heard him.

And then he felt Charlie's fingers wiggle in his hand.


	12. Chapter 12

****

Chapter 12

Archimedes and Alan stood just inside the door.

"Damn." It was an uncharacteristic word for Alan, and Archie raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything. He'd had a hard week.

"I was really going to let him have it. Ditching us like that. Sneaking back to the hospital."

Archie smiled, looking at her husband and his brother. Don was slumped in the chair, head back, asleep. The chair was pulled close enough to the bed that he could easily weave his arm through the rails and keep a grip on Charlie's fingers. Sleep, though, had relaxed him, and the grip had loosened. Now, Charlie's hand rested lightly on top of Don's.

And he was staring at her.

"Oh, my God," she breathed, and was across the room without being aware of walking. "Nectarine!"

Alan, who had been close behind, suddenly stopped. Nectarine?

Archie leaned over the rail and pressed her check against Charlie's. She straightened quickly to look at the monitors. "He feels cooler ... look, Alan! 101!" She beamed happily at him, leaned over the rail again. "Charlie, sweetie. You're awake."

He tried to smile back at her. He wanted to lift his hand from Don's head and touch her, but it was so heavy ... He left it where it was, and just kept looking at her.

She ran a hand into his curls. "How are you?"

He let his eyes close for a moment. "...Tired…"

"I'll bet." He opened his eyes again at the sound of his father's voice.

He looked at him and blinked once. "Happen?"

Alan saw his heart rate shoot up and touched Charlie on the arm. Archie wouldn't let go of the curls Alan really wanted. "Sh. Don't worry about that now. It's all over, you're safe, we're all here. Just rest." Alan smiled broadly. "I'm so happy to see you!"

Charlie tried to smile again. He wished everything weren't so heavy. His eyes slid shut once more, and the heart monitor slowed to its previous number - even lower, Alan was glad to see.

He looked back at his other son. Slept through it all.

He sighed happily. He was really going to let Donnie have it. Someday.

** 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0**

Don struggled into a more upright position in the chair. He would have stood up - that was always more intimidating - but he was having a hard time waking up and seemed to be trapped in Charlie's bed rail.

He had heard what the doctor said, though, and he was having none of it.

"You're crazy. It's too early."

Dr. Fitzgerald tried to placate him. "It's true that your brother has been very ill, Mr. Eppes. He's still very ill. We get patients up as soon as we can to help them get better - Charlie hasn't moved in five days. We were cautious because of the brain injury. But this morning's MRI shows that all fluid and swelling is gone, and the rest of his injuries are progressing on schedule. We've started allowing him water; tomorrow we'll begin a clear liquid diet, and actually get him out of bed a few times. All I want to do this afternoon is have Charlie sit up on the edge of the bed."

He could tell he wasn't getting anywhere with Don, and he actually backed up a step when Don finally managed to get loose of the bedrail and stood. "A nurse will be here the entire time, standing right next to him. You can stand on the other side, if you want."

"Donnie..." Alan began, but Don shook his head. He'd been in a sound sleep, and when pulled out of a sound sleep, he was always angry. When Charlie's comfort and health was threatened, and he knew about it, he was always angry. It was simple math. Angry plus angry, equaled - _really angry_.

He felt fingers brush against his arm and looked down. Charlie was staring at him.

"s'okay."

Don felt himself deflate as surely as a balloon impaled on a knife. He looked at Archie, perched delicately on the end of the bed.

"Don't look at me." Archie wasn't happy either, he could tell. "Never one to interfere with a Special Agent on the job."

Dr. Fitzgerald looked at his watch. Families. Who had time for them? "All right, look. Dr. Reese and I have been very generous in allowing you all in here, at all hours, because your presence seemed to be beneficial. I'm telling you now, the instant that stops…"

An alarm sounded and all eyes turned to the heart monitor. Charlie's heart rate had shot up to 120. "No," he begged from the bed, trying again to lift his hand high enough to grab Don. "Stay."

Don turned fully toward him then, grabbing the hand. "Relax, Charlie. I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry." He lifted his head to glare at Dr. Fitzgerald, then looked back at Charlie. "You're okay. Calm down. It's my fault. He woke me up."

Charlie's heart rate was steadily descending, and he managed his first real smile. "Mistake."

Don chuckled. "Yeah. Remember your 8th birthday? You got up at some unreasonable hour, found the bicycle Dad and I were up all night putting together for you, and ran back up to my room, jumping and yelling and..." He looked again at Archie. "It's kind-of my fault his nose looks like that."

She laughed, rubbing her hand absently over the lump of Charlie's legs beneath the sheet. "Good. That means there's a chance for our kids."

Dr. Fitzgerald cleared his throat. "I apologize. I didn't mean to upset Charlie. But you need to believe that I have some idea what I'm doing."

Alan tried to make peace. "Of course. We do."

The doctor held Don's eyes, had a sudden vision of what it must be like to have this man after you - and another of what it must be like to have him on your side. "Okay. New plan. Charlie can rest a few more hours. I'll have the evening staff do it. Perhaps his temperature will be even lower by then."

Don nodded his thanks, waited until the door was almost shut behind him and looked at Charlie again. "You'd better get outta here soon. I'm gonna give that dude a nose job yet."

** 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0**

It was only 6 when they decided to do it.

Later, after Archie had burst into tears and he and Alan had taken her for a walk to calm her down; much later, after he had slunk back into the room and remembered Charlie's long, slow groan and the heavy slump of his passing clean out and almost slipping off the bed onto the floor; quite a bit later, after he had gone into the men's room and let himself cry...Don comforted himself with the knowledge that he had been right all along.

It was too damn soon.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Alan, Archie and Don sat together at the kitchen table, over cold pizza and beer.

"That was not pleasant." Alan took another drink for courage. "And I'm thinking."

Don looked at him warily. "What?"

"Charlie has a long recovery ahead. Very little of it will be pleasant. We should take shifts. Five hours each? That way, someone will be with him at least 15 hours a day. We could schedule Don for evenings, after Dr. Fitzgerald has left."

Archie snorted. "He'll just pick a new target. Like a pit bull on steroids."

"Hey!"

Archie blew him a kiss. "Don't worry, Donnie. As long as your pit bull is guarding my husband, I'll buy the doggie treats."

Alan laughed behind his napkin, wiped his mouth and looked at them both. "Seriously. The shift thing. How soon will you both have to return to work?"

"Merrick said we could have as long as we needed," Don answered. "Don't worry about that."

"Um ..." Archie's voice was tentative, and Don and Alan both looked at her.

She blushed. "Don't look at me like that. It's just that...well...I may quit."

Alan protested. "Archie, there's no need for that. You heard Don, you can take as long as you need. And when Charlie comes home, I'll be here."

"It's not entirely that. You know I've been thinking about the Sacramento job."

Don was surprised. "Well, yeah...but...you'd want to be away from Charlie four days every week?"

She visibly shivered. "Never. Never again. Not for any job. The point is, I was willing to consider it. I'm just not happy on Reynolds' team."

Don looked at his beer guiltily. "I'm sorry, Arch...I really don't think we should be on the same team. Look at what happened this week. If the two of us weren't working together, Dad wouldn't have been alone…"

She interrupted. "No, no, you're right. I loved working with you, Don. You're a great team leader. But I gotta tell ya, if I have to choose between working with you or being married to Charlie - I hate to let you down, bud, but it's no contest."

Don smiled. "Good answer. So if it's no FBI, no Secret Service - what is it?"

"You'll laugh?"

Don took a swig of beer and winked at his father over the bottle. This was going to be good. He set the bottle back on the table. "No promises," he said.

She made a face at him. "I always wanted to open my own agency, someday. Private detective."

The two men were silent.

"Okay. I'm just thinking. I probably shouldn't make any big decisions right now, anyway."

Don grinned. "Actually, Arch, I could see that. But you're right. It's a 'family leave' absence, federal law. Your job has to stay open, your benefits will still be paid - take advantage of it."

"I agree," put in Alan. "With all of that. Now. Back to the hospital schedule..."

** 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0**

The next time they got together over the kitchen table, they decided maybe shifts wouldn't work.

They had agreed that Alan would take 8 a.m until 1 p.m. Archie, 1 to 6 p.m. Don, 6 until 11 p.m. First, Don refused to wait for his shift, going in with Alan to be sure Charlie was alert enough to understand that someone was always with him, and that he would be back later.

When they got to his room, Charlie was alert - but also agitated. Before the two of them could offer a word of greeting, Charlie uttered his first full sentence: "I want to know what happened."

They each took a chair on either side of the bed. Alan quickly checked the monitors. "Charlie, you still have a fever. This can wait until later."

Charlie tried to push himself up with one hand, winced and shut his eyes for a moment, opening them again to look from his father to Don. "You can tell me," he said, "or I can ask to see my chart."

Alan recognized that tone. He looked at Don, then down at his knees. "There was a shooting on campus. A student in one of Larry's classes opened fire. We don't really know why you were in Larry's class. Anyway. Six students were killed, nine wounded - including you and Larry. Then he killed himself." He looked back at Charlie and waited.

Charlie was pale. "Larry's hurt?"

Don hurried to reassure him. "He'll be fine. A soft tissue injury to the shoulder. He's staying with Megan, now."

"I want to see him."

"He's anxious to see you," said Alan. "The hospital will only let family in ICU, but as soon as you're in a regular room, I'm sure you won't be able to get rid of him."

Alan went on to explain the physical trauma Charlie had suffered as best as he could, but he wasn't sure Charlie was really paying attention. Especially when his next question was a soft, "Who was the student?"

"A sophomore. Gary Sanborn."

Charlie blinked. "Gary? Gary shot me? Gary killed himself?"

Alan just nodded, and he and Don waited for Charlie's next question.

But it never came.

Charlie just laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes, exhausted by the physical exertion of talking so much and the new knowledge that had invaded his heart. He let the drugs take him away.

After watching him sleep for almost an hour, Don agreed to leave until his shift. Then, he used his sudden day off for errands. The bank. A load of laundry. Checked in with Larry and Megan. Larry was doing well enough that Megan would return to work the next day. Don suspected he could return home if he wanted - but he didn't blame him for not wanting to!

After a stop at the office to talk with David and Director Merrick, Don cheated again and headed for the hospital early.

Very early.

He pushed open the door to Charlie's room ready to defend himself to Archie, but she looked at him with frantic eyes. "I was hoping you were the nurse."

Charlie was sitting up in a chair, a disconcerting sight. Don approached to get a better look, and Archie kept talking, a little frantically.

"I've called them twice. He, He was up for five minutes this morning, and, and this time was supposed to be ten, but, but it's been 13 already, and, and...Oh, God, he's crying."

Don saw the lone tear that had squeezed out of Charlie's eye and was rolling down his face. He took another step. "The hell with them," he growled. "I'll do it."

Archie literally jumped on him in a full-body tackle. "NO! Don't hurt him!"

Frustrated, Don realized she was right. He had no idea how to transfer Charlie back to the bed with the least amount of pain. He ground out a "Stay with him" and stormed out the door.

The petite redhead behind the nursing station saw him coming. "Dr. Fitzgerald," she said lowly, but loudly enough that the man sitting and studying a chart could hear her, "could use your help, here."

The doctor looked up just as Don reached the station. He saw the livid face and sighed. This guy definitely had anger issues.

He rose and stood slightly in front of the nurse. "Mr. Eppes…"

"Put. My. Brother. In. Bed. Now."

Dr. Fitzgerald started, looked at his watch and turned to the petite redhead. "Dr. Eppes is still up?"

She blushed. "I'm just a few minutes late," she protested.

The doctor made a noise of disgust. "This is the Intensive Care Unit, Nurse. If you are in the habit of being a few minutes late, perhaps you would be better suited assigned to another floor - a matter I will take up with the Nursing Director. Bring me 10mg IV morphine, stat. I'll be with Dr. Eppes."

Dr. Fitzgerald tossed the chart he had been reading on the desk and headed quickly for Charlie's room.

Don was starting to like this guy.

Back in the room, Don saw evidence of more tears on Charlie's face and made a low sound in his throat, like a wounded animal. After Dr. Fitzgerald had put Charlie back in bed himself, teaching Don and Archie how to move him, he administered the morphine. The additional dose quickly knocked Charlie out. Still, Don and Archie watched him for several hours, Archie staying beyond her shift. When Don was sure the petite redhead was off duty, and the night nurse understood that THIS WAS HIS BROTHER she was taking care of, they finally left together.

Back at the house, they had another family meeting around the kitchen table.

That was when they decided shifts wouldn't work.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Don and Archie stood silently, a respectful distance from the bed.

Dr. Fitzgerald leaned over the rail, a stethoscope to Charlie's chest.

Even without it, Don could hear the slight wheeze.

Even without it, he could see the monitors. The increased - everything. Everything climbing. Again.

The doctor straightened, smiled at his patient. "Ready to try for 15 this morning?"

"No."

The doctor laughed. "Ah. Honesty. Makes my job so much easier. All right. 10. Really."

Charlie nodded slightly, and Dr. Fitzgerald winked at him. "I'll send in the nurse. She's a brunette. Has a better sense of time."

As he turned to leave he looked significantly at Don and Archie.

"Chuck." Don looked at Charlie. "I'm going to go find Dad. I'm afraid he fell asleep in the cafeteria before he got his coffee."

Charlie just nodded again and closed his eyes. "Right," he said tiredly. "Go ahead and go with him, 'Meda. I know you both want to talk to the doctor."

Don and Archie looked guiltily at each other, but didn't wait for Charlie to change his mind. They followed Dr. Fitzgerald into the hall.

"I was hoping to move him from the ICU today," he began, scribbling in the chart, "but I'm concerned about his left lung. The one we had to repair."

"His temp is almost 103, again."

"Yes. Mrs. Eppes, frankly, we could be seeing the first signs of post-operative pneumonia."

Don ran a hand through his hair. "But you're getting him up again anyway?"

"This is precisely why. I'll have him up at least four times, today. I'm also writing new orders so that while he is in bed, he's always at a minimum of a 30-degree angle, and I'm changing his antibiotics again. Respiratory therapy will start visits three times a day. We have to encourage the clearing of his lung. The nurse will show you how to hold a pilllow over his abdomen whenever he coughs, to help with pain. With any luck, we can keep this down to a secondary infection."

Don looked at him. "Luck. Charlie's not great in the luck department, the last few years."

The doctor smiled, a little grimly. "So I see from his medical history. Which reminds me ... he's also complaining of hip pain on his right side. Because of his previous spinal cord injury, it's difficult for him to be in one position for a prolonged time. So I'll increase his range-of-motion orders, and speak with PT."

"What about me?" Archie asked suddenly, slugging Don in the arm.

"Hey! What was that about?"

"You said Charlie hasn't had much luck in the past couple of years. What about me?"

He grinned into her determined face. "I don't know. What about you?"

"You are SO going to see, Donald Eppes. I am the best thing that's happened to this family in years, and I will not let go of any part of it. Not without a fight." She halfway turned back toward Charlie's room and gave him one last look. "So are you with me?"

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Damn, woman. Stupid infection doesn't stand a chance, does it?"

****

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0

Up four times. Three RT sessions. Three PT sessions. Several addtional ROM sessions by the nurse. Alan, Don and Archimedes watching every breath.

Charlie was exhausted.

He sent them all to dinner and lay back gratefully, fell immediately asleep.

A loud noise from the corridor woke him after only a few minutes. The chairs around the bed were empty. No one was back yet. He sighed.

This getting shot stuff was not on his list of things to do again.

He looked up the monitors, mostly because everyone else kept doing it, and could see that he was back down to 101. He was tired of being hot. He hoped it kept going down.

He heard another noise and turned his head. Don was lurking in the shadows.

"When did you get back?"

"Did I wake you?" Don came a little closer to the bed. "Sorry. I only went as far as the hall. I asked Archie to bring me a sandwich and some coffee - when I came back in, you were asleep already. I was tired of sitting."

Charlie looked at him. Don looked as tired as he felt. He wished there was something he could say to reassure him. Unbidden, he had a brief flash of memory.

"Hey." A huge smile spread across his face. Don couldn't help but smile back.

"What?"

"I haven't told you yet. But...But I know something. When I woke up, I knew something." Charlie wasn't quite sure how to explain it, and could tell he didn't have long to try before he fell asleep again. He raised his wounded arm in frustration, quickly lowered it to the pillow again. "Ow."

Don came a little closer to the bed and frowned. "Take it easy, Charlie. What is it?"

Charlie tried to open his eyes wider, and looked into Don's. "I don't really know how... but I remember ..." He smiled again. "She's all-right, Donnie. Mom. She's happy. I woke up, and I knew that."

Don swallowed. He had heard that Charlie had flatlined at least once in the days he and Archie were at the spa. "Did you see her?"

Charlie frowned, but not in unhappiness. He was trying to remember. "No. I don't think so. I'm sure I would remember that, right?"

Don just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"I ... I saw someone. I talked to someone. I know I was never alone, but I can't remember ..." Charlie yawned, then smiled again. "Except about Mom. I just know it. Like I know my name." He yawned again, closed his eyes. "She's okay, now."

Don watched him fall asleep again.

He wondered how Charlie knew.

He didn't really understand it.

But he believed it.

He found himself smiling, as he stood over his brother's bed.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Let's chat a while first. How are you all? I ask, because I'M NOT HEARING MUCH FROM YOU! I thank my loyal core of reviewers. I live for your kind words. And I promise the rest of you…I will continue to torture Charlie until I have at least 100 reviews on this story. (Of course, now if I get a bunch of reviews, I'll think you want me to stop, and I'll feel so bad I'll need an after-hours appointment with my therapist. So good freakin' luck on this.) **

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………**Chapter 15**

Nine days after the shooting at Cal Sci, Charlie was transferred to the general population of the hospital. His temperature had not dropped below 100 since the infections began, so Drs. Fitzgerald and Reese were cautious — but it had held steady at 100 for two days, so they changed his antibiotics a third time and released him from the ICU.

That same day, after another MRI, his arm was placed in a hard cast. He was upgraded to a soft foods diet, and his catheter was removed. Best of all, Archie started the morning by shaving him. Neither one of them was particularly fond of his week's growth of beard.

He would remain on a special diet for several months, and would always have to be more diligent than ever about his eating regimen. Now that his stomach was smaller, it couldn't hold enough food from a traditional meal to meet his nutritional needs, so the hospital dietician spent time explaining to the four of them that Charlie would need supplements between meals, and his vitamin-intake was more crucial. Alan listened to that and exchanged a forlorn look with Archie. Getting Charlie to remember to eat once or twice a day was often a challenge. This wasn't going to be easy.

On the busy day of his transfer, MRI and casting, Don had left the hospital for a few hours to catch up with his own life. Late that afternoon he was back. He took the elevator to the new floor Charlie was on, walked down the hall, pushed open the door — and almost knocked Charlie over. Even though Don knew that Charlie had been walking small distances for the last couple of days, it had always happened when he wasn't there, and it was a shock to see him upright — a bigger shock to see him clutch at the nurse beside him with one hand when the door opened inches from his face. Don reached out quickly to help steady him.

"Shit, Charlie! I'm sorry — I didn't expect — are you okay?"

The nurse smiled at him. "You missed him by '_that much'_. Care to try again?"

Don blushed. "I'm sorry … where are we going?"

Charlie and his nurse started negotiating a wide turn. "We were just walking as far as the door and back this time," she answered. "Charlie's had a long day, already… and I plan a longer walk for later, after he's had some rest." She looked at Charlie. "Let's get you in the bed until dinner. Then you can sit up for a while, and around nine, when things calm down a little, we'll take a hike."

Charlie silently nodded. Don thought he looked like he was counting something. Steps back to the bed, probably — he looked ready to fall asleep on his feet. He waited in the background until Charlie was settled and the nurse had gone. Then he sat in the chair nearest the bed.

"Where is everybody?"

Charlie's eyes were closed already. "I convinced them I would be busy the rest of the day. They went home for a few hours. Coming back tonight."

Don started to stand. "I should go, let you sleep for awhile."

Charlie's eyes popped open and he saw Don standing. "Wait."

Don hesitated, then sat down again. "Need something?"

Charlie rolled his head a little so that he could look directly at Don. But he didn't say anything for so long that Don wondered if he'd fallen asleep with his eyes open.

"Charlie?"

He blinked a few times. "You always take care of me," he finally said. "You always make me feel safe."

Don didn't know exactly what to say to that. Before he could decide, Charlie spoke again.

"I want to be a better brother."

Surprised, Don just looked at Charlie for a moment. "Charlie, you're a great brother. What are you talking about?"

"I don't think I'm there for you — the way you are for me."

Don protested. "That's crazy. Anytime I call for help on a case, you're there, regardless of what's already going on in your life. You worked on a case for me the day you got married!" He grinned. "Although in all fairness, I wouldn't have asked, if I had known you were booked on a flight to Vegas."

Charlie smiled briefly. "You and Dad will never let that go. Anyway, there's more to life than work, Don. I want you to feel like you can count on me for other things, too. This relationship is too one-sided, sometimes."

Don remembered the four days last week he had not been there for Charlie and shook his head, frowned. "I've let you down, Buddy. Lots of times. I should have been here when you were hurt. Or at least reachable. I could have lost you, Charlie, you could have left me."

"Don't." Charlie sighed a little in frustration. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Don, I'm trying to … I'm trying to … I'm trying to let you know that I want to be less selfish."

Don shook his head again. "What brought all this on, Charlie?"

Charlie looked away from him and closed his eyes again. "Almost dying, I guess. You get a second chance, you evaluate things. So you can do a better job."

Don sat silently with that.

"Besides being there for you, I don't want you to feel like you have to take care of me all the time. You've got your own life. Eventually, you're going back to work — right?" Charlie was looking at him again.

Don suddenly felt a little uneasy. Maybe he'd been overstepping his bounds. Especially now that Archie was in the picture. Maybe Charlie just didn't need him anymore.

"Hey." Charlie's voice was concerned. "What did I say?"

Don shook his head and tried to smile. "Nothing." He made to stand up again. "I should go."

Charlie's IV lines hit him in the face when Charlie tried to reach for him over the rail. "No. Please. I said something wrong. I'm sorry."

Don looked up at the IV stand. "When are you getting rid of that?"

"Whenever my fever goes away. What did I say?"

Don sighed. "Nothing. Don't worry, Charlie. I guess I just figured out that we're not kids, anymore. You're a married man — to a very determined woman, I might add. She's more than capable of watching your back."

"But … but … that's all wrong."

Don smiled. "Oh?"

Charlie looked at him intently. "You're thinking she replaced you. Not true. She never even applied for your job. Apples and oranges. Calculus and trig. Two different things, a wife and a brother. Can't I need two different things?"

When Don didn't say anything, Charlie kept going. "I didn't mean to imply that I want less of you in my life, Don — if anything, I want more. And … And … I just want it not to be all about what I want … damn. Doesn't make sense." Charlie was tired, his stomach hurt and his arm ached. He was getting hot. He was frustrated. He squeezed his eyes shut. When he spoke again, his voice was dejected. "I shouldn't have said anything. I always screw up at this kind of stuff."

Don leaned back in the chair. He spoke softly. "Charlie. Look at me."

After a few seconds, Charlie did.

Don could see fear, and guilt, and pain in those expressive brown eyes. He didn't want to be responsible for any of it. He wanted to make it all go away.

"You didn't screw anything up. I appreciate all you said. And I've decided a couple of things."

"What?" Charlie's voice was tentative.

"One is that I should let you in more. I've known that about myself for a while. I live very independently. Too much so, sometimes. I promise to work on that." He leaned forward in the chair a little to emphasize his next point. "And the other thing? Charlie, when we both live to the ripe old ages I have planned for us — when I'm 105, and you're 100 — I will still be your big brother, and I will never stop taking care of you, and making you feel safe."

Charlie started to smile, then, but instead a yawn overtook him. "Don't go," he said sleepily, eyes sliding shut.

Don settled back in the chair.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Because Charlie was finally out of the ICU, Larry and Megan came to visit that night.

Still in the chair where he had eaten his dinner — or "slid his mush", as he had begun to refer to his meals — Charlie broke into a broad smile at the sight of his old friend.

"Larry!" He looked at the sling and frowned. "Are you all right?"

Larry and Megan came close to the chair and, after Megan had hugged Charlie, sat on the edge of the bed. "Charles, you're the one in the hospital. I'll be fine. I've already started physical therapy."

"Me, too," answered Charlie unhappily. "I don't like it." He changed the subject. "Have you gone back…to work? I tried to phone you at home today, but I must have dialed wrong. I got the disconnected recording. Then I feel asleep before I could try your cell."

Larry looked at Megan, then back at Charlie. "Actually, Charles…Megan and I have decided to continue our cohabitation. I've had the phone disconnected in my apartment. Don and David have generously agreed to help me box and move some things this weekend."

Charlie's smile grew wider. "Guys! That's great! I'm so happy for you. You're not going to run off to Vegas and get married, are you?"

Larry chuckled. "That, Charles, has already been done by enough people in this room." He reached into his sling and withdrew a small slip of paper, which he put on the bedside table. "As for my cell…I had to get a new one. This is the new number." He looked solemnly at Charlie. "Charles…my cell was found smashed under your body. Is that why you came to my classroom? To return my cell phone?"

Memory crashed down on Charlie like a fist, and he actually shrank back a little. "You left it in my office. I knew you were waiting to hear from Megan…I remember deciding to use the faculty entrance to the classroom. I don't remember anything after opening the door."

Megan didn't like the sudden paleness of Charlie's face, and tried to distract him. "I'm surprised to find you alone," she said. "Where is your Vegas bride, anyway?"

Charlie sagged in the chair a little, suddenly very tired. "I'm sure they'll be here soon. Dad and Archie have been gone since this morning. Don got here a couple of hours ago — he's in the cafeteria eating dinner. I asked him not to eat in front of me, anymore. Even if I'm not hungry, I look at real food and get jealous."

Larry put his good hand to his mouth and began to chew his fingernails in a familiar gesture. Megan looked sideways at him and he quickly dropped his hand. "I'm so pleased to see you looking so well, Charles. I have missed you."

"I think he could look better," stated Megan plainly. "You look tired. First pale, now flushed."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Give me a break, Megan. I shaved today and dressed up my arm in this pleasant fluorescent green cast, just for you. Didn't have time to lower my temperature any."

She smiled a little, but still looked serious. "Don told me. That infection is really hanging on."

Charlie shifted uncomfortably. "I don't want to talk about that. You never answered me, Larry. Have you gone back to work?"

His friend nodded. "Just today. It was…more difficult than I anticipated, teaching my Physics 203 course again. In that Lecture Hall."

Charlie started to look away and then noticed for the first time that Larry was holding a newspaper. He nodded at it. "What is that?"

Larry looked at it as if to remind himself, then reached over and placed it carefully on the rolling bedside table on top of the tiny slip of paper with his new cell phone number. "It's the Times account of the shooting. All the … people are listed by name … I didn't know how much information you had received. I thought perhaps … I'll just leave it here. You don't need to read it, if you'd rather not."

Charlie was looking at the newspaper as if it had claws and teeth and was about to sink all of them into his flesh. He paled again. "Th … thanks. Maybe later."

He turned his attention back to his visitors. They continued to chat for several more minutes before the door opened again and they were joined by Archie, Alan — and David, whom they had found in the parking lot. Another few minutes, and Don returned from his dinner. The six friends let relief and hope fuel their conversation, barely noticing that Charlie's contributions were rare. Then Alan, sitting next to Archie, who was closest to Charlie, heard a low, "Nectarine?", and followed her gaze. Charlie didn't look all that great.

Archie leaned over and ran a hand through his curls. "I think maybe you should lie down for awhile."

Charlie protested. "She wants me to stay up."

Archie stiffened. "Don't worry about the nurse. I'll take care of Brunhilda."

Larry's hand approached his mouth again. "Oh, dear. Does Mrs. Singer work here?"

Don snorted, and Alan glared at him, then tried to reassure Larry. "No, no, Mrs. Singer is Hildegard…I'm not sure why Archie is referring to Charlie's nurse as Brunhilda. I haven't even met the night nurse on this floor."

"Me neither," admitted Archie, "but whoever it is will not be allowed to intimidate my husband."

Charlie interrupted. "What is everyone talking about?"

Alan sighed. "When Larry was released from the hospital, before Don and Archie and Megan came back, I took him to stay at the house. I didn't feel that he should be alone."

Charlie nodded.

Alan continued. "But I needed to come back to the hospital to be with you, and I still didn't want Larry to be alone…"

Charlie finished his thought. "You had Mrs. Singer come over." He looked sympathetically at his friend. "How many albums of Ingrid?"

Larry smiled. "I was spared all but the first six months of this year, so there were only seven, I believe. Ingrid's youngest, Hans — quite a strapping young lad."

"She made him eat jellied eel," Don put in.

At that, Charlie turned a little green, and Don quickly stood. "Archie's right. Back to bed."

Larry, Megan and David quickly said their good-byes, promising to return soon. Archie walked to the door with them, gave Megan a quick hug.

"Listen," she said as she pulled back, "Don and I know how to help Charlie get back in bed, but could you stop at the nursing station and ask someone to come down soon? With a thermometer? He seems really warm."

"Of course," Megan promised. "Give me a call if you need anything."

When the three had left, Archie and Don helped Charlie transfer back to the bed. He offered no more arguments and was strangely silent, making Alan very nervous. Soon, a nurse bustled into the room. Alan was glad to see that she was very much unlike Mrs. Singer — at least physically.

She smiled at the Eppes. "I'm Kristin. I'll be taking care of Charlie tonight."

Alan and Don nodded, while Archie looked at her worriedly. "Dr. Fitzgerald showed us how to help him back to bed. That's why we didn't wait."

Kristin approached the bed. "That's fine." She laid a thermometer on the bedside table and quickly took Charlie's pulse. She smiled when she looked at him and picked the thermometer back up, stuck it in his ear. "You're looking a little worn out. I think the day caught up with you."

"I wasn't running very fast," Charlie mumbled, and Kristin chuckled as she checked the display on the thermometer. "Okay. I thought I heard that you're a professor of mathematics?"

"I am," answered Charlie.

"You don't seem to have a good grip on numbers, right now. They're going the wrong way." She looked at the three worried faces looking back at her. "He'll be all right…but I'm shutting down visiting for the night. Think we'll skip that hike we had planned for later."

"How high is it?" asked Don.

"Back to 102," she answered. "I know you've all waited all day to see him, and I'm sorry to kick you out — but Charlie needs his rest."

Archie looked ready to cry. She came to the bed and leaned over to kiss Charlie. "It'll be okay, babe. Kristin is right. You've had a long day."

"I'm sorry," Charlie whispered, and Alan shushed him. "Nothing to be sorry about, son. We had a lot of people in here, for awhile. Just too much, all at once." He leaned over to kiss Charlie's hot forehead and winced, careful to readjust his face before his stood back up. "We'll see you in the morning. Get some rest."

Don, on the other side of the bed, winked at Charlie. "I'm not kissing you."

Charlie smiled. "Thank you."

"See you tomorrow?"

Charlie nodded, and the three finally left. Kristin sat down in the chair next to the bed. "Charlie, I want to talk to you."

He looked at her. "What?"

"I want you to think of yourself as a war zone, with a couple of different battles going on. The trouble is, you only have a finite number – like that word? 'Finite'? I think it's a math word. Anyway, you only have a finite number of soldiers. Worse yet, they don't take orders. They just decide for themselves where they are needed the most. Right now, there are two major battle grounds. One is pain. The other is infection. Pain yells louder, gets more attention, so all the soldiers are going to fight that battle, and no one is left to fight the other one." She smiled kindly at him. "I respect your decision to try to cut down on your pain meds…but when you let the pain get out of control, the soldiers in your body are going to respond to it. Controlling your pain level is not a sign of weakness, Charlie. It's simply freeing up some soldiers to fight another battle."

He sighed a little, spoke quietly. "I understand."

Kristin stood again. "Now. How about Brunhilda gets you some Demerol?"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Deciding to go to bed early since he couldn't visit Charlie, Alan paused on his way to the stairs to look at Archie, who was curled up on the couch trying to convince him she was reading a book.

"Archie…"

She looked up and smiled.

"…that's the second time I've heard you call Charlie 'Nectarine'. What's that all about?"

She blushed. "Well. It's just that…well…Charlie started referring to…to a certain part of my anatomy as 'peaches', because he said that they looked like ripe peaches begging to be picked." Her blush deepened. She cleared her throat. "Anyway. Anyway, I wanted to pick a fruit nickname for him, too, and…and 'banana' just seemed too obvious, and then one day I noticed that for a hairy guy, he really has virtually none on his…in a certain place, and…and so I thought of nectarines, and…"

Alan held up a hand, blurted a loud, "Archie! Please! Never mind. Just pretend this never happened. Try to forget I asked."

He hurried up the stairs, mumbling.

"I hope to God I can."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Around 2:30 in the morning, Charlie woke up and called Kristin. He needed to go to the bathroom. He was still very tired, but he didn't feel as badly as he had last night. After Kristin helped him walk to the bathroom and back, she checked his temperature again and smiled. "Already down a degree," she said. "Just listen to Brunhilda."

She patted him on the arm and left.

Charlie switched on the fluorescent light over the bed, squinting for a while in the brightness. Then, he cautiously picked up the newspaper Larry had left behind.

He scanned the article. Gary Sanborn. Gary was in one of Charlie's lower division classes, and he wasn't doing well. When he had come for help, Charlie had learned that he wasn't doing well in a lot of classes, and was in danger of losing his scholarship. Charlie had helped him. He had helped him with the math class, he had found tutors for him, he had spoken with other professors and talked them into giving Gary extra help.

He thought Gary liked him.

He looked at the alphabetical list of dead students.

Alyssa Atkinson, Freshman. He had heard Larry speak of Alyssa. A good student, physics major, already taking sophomore-level classes in her first year.

Samuel Dinkins, Sophomore. Arnold Fizgerald, Sophomore. Karen Kincaid, Junior. He didn't know them, but just reading their names made him sad. Someone knew them. Someone loved them.

Preston Peterson, Junior. Charlie caught his breath. He was Preston's advisor. He was an applied mathematics major, but the other sciences — other disciplines — didn't interest him. He took only the classes he had to, to meet requirements. Charlie remembered talking Preston into taking Physics 203.

Billy Sampson, Sophomore. A sound escaped Charlie. Billy was another of his students, another math major. He was also on the school's swim team, and a member of the student government. He was popular, yet a serious student, always smiling. Happy to be at Cal Sci. Excited to learn.

Charlie replaced the paper on the table. After a few minutes, he turned out the light. He pressed his head into the pillow, squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again.

He stared at the ceiling.

He was crying, but he didn't know it.

He stared at the dark ceiling for hours, until the rising sun cast its light through the window and chased the shadows from the room.

He called Kristin again.

He wanted some more Demerol.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Don got to the hospital the next day before his father and Archie. He had a lunch appointment with Director Merrick later, and he hadn't slept well, alternating between worry over Charlie and wondering why the Director had called him. Finally he had given up, gone out for an early breakfast and was at the hospital by 8.

Charlie stared up at him from the bed with glassy eyes. He raised his cast. "Hey."

Don smiled at him. "Hey. Feeling any better this morning?"

Charlie grinned sloppily. "Drugs. Wonnerful thins."

Don laughed a little. Charlie was loopy. Morphine hadn't done this — morphine had rendered him unconscious. This must be something else. "How's your fever?"

Charlie raised his other arm and looked like he was going to rub his head, but stopped when he saw the dangling IV lines, and stared at them as if he had never seen them before. Then he dropped the arm again and looked at Don. "Wha?"

"I asked if you still have a fever. What are you on, anyway?"

"Dunno." Charlie started chanting, a sort of math-professor-in-a-hospital-bed rap. "Dunno temp. Dunno drug. Dunno how many fleas in the rug!"

Don laughed again. "Dude. I think you need some more sleep."

Charlie's mood suddenly shifted, and he reached awkwardly for the newspaper. "Take this 'way," he complained, "Don' wan."

Don took the newspaper, saw the headline, registered the date. He looked at Charlie. "How did you get this?"

Charlie tried to turn onto his side, awakening every wound still healing, groaned and gave up. He shut his eyes. "Billy."

"What? Who? Is there someone you want me to call?"

Charlie opened his eyes again and glared at the paper Don was still holding. "I don' unnerstan. I read it, I read the words, bu's wrong, Donnie, is all wron…"

Don dropped the newspaper into the trash can beside the bed as he came nearer and touched Charlie's upper arm.

"Just take it easy, Buddy. We'll figure it out later."

Charlie looked up at him, desperate and heartbroken. "Later?"

Don smiled to reassure him. "Yeah. I'll help. I promise. Don't think about it anymore. Get some more sleep before someone decides you should be doing something else."

His brother sighed, then yawned. He began to play with his IV lines, not looking at Don. "'Mise?"

"Yes. Promise. Go to sleep, Charlie."

Suddenly, Charlie's mood shifted again, and he looked at Don with a grin. "I GOT MARRIED!", he yelled, and Don laughed again.

"I know, Charlie, I've met her. Archie will be here soon."

Charlie kept grinning. "Wife be here."

Then, still grinning, he closed his eyes and slept.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

After two more days of accepting IV pain medication, Charlie's fever finally broke, and he switched thankfully back to oral medications. On Day 11, Charlie came back from a session in physical therapy to find Don waiting in his room.

"I'm fine from here, thanks," he said to the orderly who had pushed him back in the wheelchair, and then looked excitedly at Don. "I thought we agreed no-one would show up before four because I'm never here anyway but I'm glad you came look isn't this great?"

Don smiled, taking Charlie's chair from the orderly. "Slow down, Charlie. Take a breath. What?"

Charlie waved his arm in the air. His blessedly free arm. "No more IV ! Normal for 12 hours and counting!"

Don parked him near the window and dragged a chair over to sit facing him. He grinned. "That's great, Charlie! About your fever being gone — that's great, but I'm not sure I'm ready to call you 'normal'."

Charlie just smiled, too happy to have a word fight. "So…bored?"

Don ran a hand through his hair in his familiar nervous gesture, and Charlie stopped smiling. "What?"

"I just wanted to talk to you, before the others got here."

Charlie waited.

Don stood up, looked out the window. "I had lunch with Director Merrick."

Charlie waited some more.

"Assistant Director Lewis has been terminated. Failing to extricate Archie and I immediately, when you were shot and it didn't look like you…well, anyway, it was the last in a long line of mistakes."

Charlie kept waiting…because he thought maybe that's what he was supposed to do, and he wasn't sure where this was going anyway.

Don sat down again, and looked at Charlie.

"He offered me the job."

Charlie's eyes widened. "Assistant Director of the L.A. office? Don, that's…that's great!" He noticed that Don didn't seem to share his enthusiasm. He frowned. "You don't look like it's great."

"No, no, it is. It's great. I know it's an honor, a promotion, more money, more power…"

"Then what?"

Don shrugged. "I wouldn't get out in the field, much. Hardly ever, actually."

Charlie relaxed. "Don't you get it? That's what's great."

Don smiled. He couldn't blame his brother and father for worrying.

"But I have some ideas," he began tentatively. "For instance. My first task would be some restructuring. David would become a team leader, with Megan as his profiler. I could transfer Archie back to the team, add one more member…" Don noticed that now Charlie's enthusiasm had waned. "What?"

This time Charlie shrugged. "I just don't like the idea of Archimedes out there without you for back-up. She told me she wants to open an agency."

Don frowned. "Charlie. Megan and David are good to have at your back. They're at mine, so I know what I'm talking about. And if Archie starts her own agency, becomes a private detective — she won't have _any_ back-up. Have you thought about that?"

Charlie paled and shook his head. He looked away and swallowed. Then he looked back at Don. "Okay. This is…this is good. This is what I want, what I asked for. You're sharing with me. So let's not make it about how I feel about your job, or 'Meda's job, or how I feel about anything. Being out of the field — is that your main objection?"

Don stood and looked out of the window again. "Yeah. Well, the whole thing, really. What takes an Agent into the field to begin with? Following leads, putting together a case." He turned and grinned at Charlie. "Solving crime. I have a superhero complex."

Charlie smiled back, but didn't say anything.

Don started to wander in a circle around Charlie's wheelchair. "The thing is, Buddy…I'm closer to 40 than I care to admit. Maybe it's time to get out of the field."

"40 isn't old." Charlie countered. "It used to be, when I was 20. Now that I'm 32, 40 is not old, anymore." He heard Don's chuckle from somewhere behind him. He waited for him to come around the circle again, because trying to follow him made him dizzy. "What exactly does the Assistant Director do?"

Don plopped into the chair again. "Administrative stuff. I'd hate that part. And training, of the others, I mean. Keeps the office running, manages the personnel, definitely more hands-on than the Director. One thing I would do is move the A.D.'s office to the same floor as the working agents — might even remodel one of the conference rooms, so I would be right off the bullpen. The A.D. should be the go-to guy when you hit a wall in an investigation, and it shouldn't be as difficult to go-to him as it is, now."

"So you would find a way to occasionally hit the field."

Don just grinned.

"It sounds like," Charlie began thoughtfully, "it sounds like you would be a teacher. A coach. A mentor. The ultimate team leader."

Don looked at him. "Yeah, I guess that's one way to look at it."

Charlie smiled at him. "I can see that. I think you would excel at that. This isn't about me, really, but why do you think I'm a teacher? I could have chosen research, or a full-time developmental position at the one of the agencies I have consulted for…"

"You could have done anything," Don said simply. "And you do so much…I guess I just thought you became a teacher because it means you can stay on the cutting edge — and because it allows you time to do some of the other things?"

Charlie started to shake his head, but stopped. "To be fair, I'm sure that's all part of it. And there are other reasons, like the incredible teachers I have had the privilege of knowing, over the years. But another reason was you."

Don raised an eyebrow. "Me? I never taught you anything. You were helping me with my homework."

Charlie looked serious. "You've taught me a lot. Always. Still. Every day. How to be a man of your word. How to be a good son, a good brother. How to find balance." He grinned. "Sometimes you teach me things because you're so bad at it yourself, and I want to show you up. The whole balance thing, for instance." His smiled immediately faded. "And sometimes you show me things I'm not so good at. Like…like how to see something through to the end." He looked away quickly, took a deep breath and looked back. "Anyway. I didn't get a little brother — although I remember asking, a few times. So, I thought that if I became a teacher, maybe I could influence someone younger in a positive way, like you do with me."

Don stared at Charlie for a long moment. "You never cease to amaze me," he finally said, and stood up yet again. "I'm still on leave for a few weeks, Merrick said I should take that time to think."

Charlie nodded. "Sounds like a good idea."

Don checked his watch. "I know you have another PT session in a couple of hours. I'll let you rest for awhile. I'll be back later, okay?"

Charlie nodded again, and Don started to walk toward the door, but when he got behind Charlie's wheelchair he suddenly stopped. He turned so that he was facing the back of the chair and put both his hands on Charlie's shoulders, gave a gentle squeeze. "Thanks," he said softly. "You're pretty good at this brother thing." Before Charlie could answer or turn around, in five quick steps, he was out the door.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next evening, while the three Eppes were in Charlie's room, Larry and Megan came to visit. Charlie was both strong enough and bored enough to walk with the group to an outdoor visiting area, although Alan was too nervous to let him stay there for very long. After 15 minutes, Don and Archie decided to go with Larry and Megan back to their apartment, and help Megan empty some more of Larry's boxes and rearrange their separate lives into one. With his injured shoulder, Larry hadn't been able to do much except boss Megan around. After a few days of that, they agreed that their relationship was being redefined in a direction neither of them wanted, and decided to put off any more unpacking until Larry could help. That morning, in a rush to get to work, Megan had tripped over several boxes and then careened into an extra chair she wasn't expecting yet, with the results being a jammed toe and a black eye. The black eye led to an explanation to the Eppes, and Don and Archie leapt to the rescue.

After the four of them left, Alan walked slowly back to the room with Charlie, who settled carefully on the bed. "You don't have to stay, Dad," he said, turning on the television. He channel surfed long enough to be disgusted at his choices, turned it back off and picked up the novel Megan had brought him instead.

Alan settled in a chair with a crossword puzzle. "I have nowhere to go but an empty house," he said.

The two were silent for several minutes, the only sound being the pages of the novel as they turned. Alan looked up at the sound of the book hitting the bedside table and saw that Charlie was staring at the ceiling.

He looked carefully back at his puzzle. "The dietician gave me some recipes for smoothies we can make in the blender for your supplemental drinks," he started casually. "I was wondering. Would you prefer peaches, or nectarines?"

Charlie started to answer automatically. "I don't care, Dad, whatever…" Suddenly he tore his gaze away from the ceiling and looked at his father. "What?"

Alan peered at him over his glasses. "Well, it says I can use any fruit, but really, wouldn't a banana be just a little too obvious?"

Charlie blushed a deep red. "She told you," he croaked. "I can't believe she told you."

Alan dropped the puzzle to his lap. "You can't believe it? My word, Charlie, I can't even shop the produce aisle anymore."

Charlie started giggling, his casted arm cradling his stomach and his other hand pressing against his healing sternum. "Dad," he choked, "don't. Hurts when I laugh."

Alan smiled indulgently and waited until Charlie's breathing became even and his arms relaxed at his sides again.

Then, he let him have it.

"Your mother," he said, picking up the crossword again, "used to call me 'Mr. Potato Head'. Something about me being a spud."

The arms were back on duty, the legs drawn up this time, as Charlie took off in another giggling fit.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19 • EPILOGUE**

Alan watched Archie and Charlie walk carefully toward the house.

He literally could not believe that 15 days after being shot three times and nearly dying, Charlie was home. It frightened him. So much healing still to be done. So much rehab. So much could still go wrong.

Don joined him at the back of the SUV and reached to take the suitcase from his hand. "I've got it, Dad. Nice of Charlie to leave all the flowers for the nursing staff."

Alan nodded silently, still watching.

Don bumped him with the suitcase. "Dad. He'll be fine. We'll make sure of it."

Alan smiled, cleared his throat. "Of course. You'll stay for dinner? I have a turkey in the oven."

Don raised an eyebrow as they started up the walk. "Turkey? It's not thanksgiving."

Alan draped an arm over Don's shoulders. "Of course it is," he said.

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Later, over mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, green bean casserole, yams, and, of course, turkey, Don regarded his family.

"Since there are two of you to juggle Charlie's therapy appointments," he started, "I thought I'd go back to work, Monday. I can help, though, I want to help. Make me part of the rotation."

Archie smiled. "Come by in the evenings and entertain your brother. Alan and I are fine in the daytime. I'm not going back for at least three more weeks." She looked down at her plate. "If then. Every time I think about working with Reynolds…"

Don shot Charlie a look. "There might be a way around that."

Archie looked at him with interest. "What? We can't work on the same team."

He smiled self-consciously. "Not exactly. But you could work on David's team, with him and Megan — we'll get you a fourth. I've already got my eye on a transfer from Vegas."

She frowned, confused. "What? Where will you be?"

"I … well, I sort-of was offered another position."

Alan's fork dropped. "Donnie, please, you're not transferring again?"

Don reached out to touch his father's hand. "No, Dad, I'm staying here. In the L.A. office. Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"Then what…"

"Geez, just TELL THEM already!" Charlie suddenly exploded, and they all looked at him startled. He smiled proudly. "He's the new Assistant Director of the L.A. office!"

Archie gasped and pushed back her chair to get to the other side of the table. Sitting next to his son, Alan beat her to the hug. "Donnie! Such good news! Congratulations, son!"

Archie was on him next, kissing him on the cheek. She looked at Charlie over Don's shoulder as she hugged him. "Your brother is my new boss!"

"I was always your boss," he began to protest, "and what kind of professional employee kisses a boss at the dinner table, anyway?"

Archie laughed and pulled back, crossed to Charlie's chair and plopped onto his lap, eliciting a surprised grunt. She wrapped a possessive arm around his neck. "This is wonderful," she beamed at them all. "This is all just wonderful."

Charlie draped his uncasted arm around her waist. He looked evenly across the table at his father and grinned. "Yes it is, Peaches."

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FINIS

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**A/N: Just seemed like a good place to let them have a few days alone, before we explore the possibilities…who wants more?**


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